


Serpents and Eye Caps

by Catthhay



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action, BAMF Matt Murdock, Badasses, Blind Matt Murdock, Canon Typical Violence, Crime, Deaf Clint Barton, Drama, Familial - Freeform, Father-Daughter Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I ignore a lot of Canon, I killed May, I lied, It gets better as you go I promise, I’m looking at you Peter and Tony, Martyr Complex, Mental Health Issues, Minor whump, Mix of canons, NOT COOL, Uh did I say MINOR whump?, all the dramas, and family drama too, because, canon typical dark pasts, defenders will probably show up eventually, demonization, everyone has some kind of disability or disorder tbh, i guess biblical references, it gets heavy occasionally ngl, just what i need to do for Matt’s character and shit, kinda sprinkled theoughout, let’s be honest, look out for that, mental health discussed, more whump-ish stuff later, not just Matt there anymore, not sorry, please give this a chance, self demonization, so I won’t bother specifying in the tags, some are just better at hiding it than others, super powered family, violent drama, we have characters that fall ALL OVER the LGBTQ+ spectrum, whump gradually gets more intense :P, wont become important until later though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 189,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16503926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catthhay/pseuds/Catthhay
Summary: What are you supposed to do when you think you’re a monster? How are you supposed to let yourself live a normal life?Hebi Teal is an orphaned teenager in just that predicament. Unsure just who she is besides a menace, she lives on the street and takes life day by excruciating day. That is, until she meets a certain blind lawyer that just wants to help her out a bit. Can his unwavering faith show Hebi a side of herself that she thought had died years ago? Can she gain what she had lost again— a family? As the two find out that they are more similar than they thought, the answer seems strangely optimistic.(I changed the summary because I can)(Also up on fanfic.net)





	1. Chapter 1

Matthew Murdock was likely one of the most observant blind men in the world. Perhaps not the most, if a certain asshole from his past was still alive, but definitely way up there. However, it didn't take a guy with preternaturally enhanced senses to tell that the street performer on the side of the road was a minor. Sure, no other blind man would have even noticed the girl was there, but everyone with light registering eyes could tell. To them, it was the fact that she was thin and still growing, that her face held a youthfulness that was absent in adults. Perhaps they could just feel, instinctively, that she was not eighteen.

To Matt, it was her heartbeat that first exposed her. Too fast to be an adult's, but slow enough that he could assume she was used to exercise. Then it was, as creepy as he realized it sounded, her scent. Even from several yards away he could smell the indescribable youth that clung to her, mixing with the scent of herbal teas and dust that hung close around her skin.

But what alarmed him, besides the fact that there was a minor performing what seemed to be a mix between dance and contortion in the streets alone, was the temperature he could feel coming off of her skin when he focused on her. It wasn't normal, it was hovering right around ninety degrees— at least seven degrees lower than it should have been. How the hell was the girl even conscious? Ninety-five degrees was the temperature indicative of hypothermia, and since it was the beginning of summer in New York it was unlikely that she was freezing from her spot dancing in the sun. In fact, in complete opposition of the human biology, she seemed to be the absolute poster girl for health at the moment.

"Matt?" The concerned voice of the blind man's best friend, Foggy, drifted over to him through the slight bustle of the morning around them. "You've been looking towards that girl for the past minute. Something up?" Something seemed to occur to the other lawyer then, causing him to step closer to his blind friend and whisper; "does it have to do with double D?"

"What? No," Matt whispered back, eyebrows furrowed and visible over his round glasses. "There's something weird about her. And if she's out here, she probably could use some money."

"So could we," Foggy reminded him, mouth turned down at the corner like it did whenever he thought about their firm's money issues. But, as Matt predicted, the fact that the girl was clearly only a teenager softened the guy. "What do you wanna do about it? She's probably running from CPS if she's out here alone. The moment she sees that we're lawyers, she's gonna book it."

"Maybe," Matt agreed, tilting his head slightly in thought. "How about you go ahead to meet our client? She's less likely to run if the lawyer talking to her is blind."

Foggy let out a long suffering sigh, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. Whenever Matthew Murdock got the scent— literal or figurative, take your pick— of someone in need, Foggy knew he was impossible to stop when it came to helping them.

"Fine," the blond finally agreed reluctantly. "But don't bring her back to the office. Give her some classic Murdock advice, maybe some money, inspirational one-liners maybe. But we can't take in a stray, Matt. We barely have enough resources to take care of ourselves right now."

The smirk on Matt's lips was not reassuring. "Yeah, Foggy. Don't worry about it, I'll just talk to her for a minute and see if I can help her at all. I swear, I won't bring her back to the office."

Foggy shook his head, deciding that was probably the best he could hope for and took off towards their newest client's house. Matt stood there for a moment, listening to the slightly staticky music coming from the cheap battery-run speaker that the girl had playing until the song ended. He took the lull in performance to walk over, getting the girl's attention when she straightened up from collecting the money that had been dropped in the bowl she had set up. He could instantly feel how her muscles tensed upon seeing him, probably from the suit he wore. But she didn't instantly flee, which meant she had picked up on his blindness and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Hello mister," her cautious voice floated out to him. It was smooth and slightly dark, like an auditory version of brown sugar sprinkled with innocence. "You lookin— eh, trying to find me for something?"

Matt chuckled softly at her fumble, not at all offended. "Not really. I'm not from CPS, if that's what you're asking," her muscles instantly relaxed a bit, and Matt caught a sigh of relief come from her lips. His own inched up into a smirk. "I take it my friend was right, then? I'm Matt. A defense attorney. But I really just wanna help people, and you seem like you need a little help."

She was, justifiably, a bit suspicious and distrusting. Matt distantly registered that she was a mouth breather, though it wasn't noticeable and surprisingly wasn't annoying either. Her breaths were still soft, more quiet than most despite not going through her nose.

"Yeah, that doesn't sound creepy at all Mister," She drawled sarcastically, her body straightening to telegraph confidence. "You got ten bucks? It'll buy me food for the week."

How somebody could buy a week's worth of food with ten bucks escaped him, but he figured she was resourceful enough to find a way. Especially if she was homeless like he suspected. Homeless people were extremely resourceful, more so than people gave them credit for. Matt knew he shouldn't push his luck, he didn't want to come off as a predator. A young girl like her probably had to deal with more than her fair share of that sort. No, he decided, he couldn't help her very much as Matt Murdock yet. But he'd keep an ear out for her when he was out at night, Daredevil was better equipped to help her out anyway.

"If you come back to this spot sometime next week, I'll give you another ten," he said instead as he pulled out his wallet and took out what he was pretty sure was the right bill. She didn't correct him when she took it and her heartbeat didn't change, so he figured it was right. "Just to make sure you're safe. And if you ever need legal help, or really any help at all though I really hope a teenager like you won't," he handed her one of his business cards too. "You can always call us. Doesn't even have to be me. My partner Foggy or our Secretary Karen will also be happy to help you. Even if all you need is a quiet place to sit for a bit and a free cup of coffee."

"Coffee is very tempting, no matter how many times I'm told it'll stunt my growth," she slowly replied, still sounding cautious. The fact that she took the card at all made him feel a bit better though, so he decided not to push his luck too far and nodded a friendly goodbye before turning to head the same way Foggy had went a few minutes earlier.

He could feel the girl's eyes follow him until he was out of sight.

—*—*—*—*—*

I watched the red headed lawyer until he turned a corner down the street, the business card he gave me heavy in my hands along with the five dollar bill he had accidentally given me. Perhaps I would have corrected him if it had been bigger than a ten, but my dancing had gotten me a pretty good amount of tips so I figured it wasn't a big deal if he gave me less than he thought he was. I could milk a lot out of five bucks, after all. It helped that my metabolism was currently far slower than a normal human's, allowing me to survive on a lot less than most. As long as I was careful to avoid empty calories, I'd be fine.

Deciding I had loitered long enough, I picked up my cheap speaker and dumped the money I had gotten into my bra. I had specifically worn a size bigger than I needed to keep it from looking weird when it was stuffed haphazardly with cash. With that done, I left the cash bowl on the ground and ducked into a familiar alley.

It didn't take long for me to get to the secluded dead-end alley that I made into my makeshift home. A complicated system of ropes hung down from the slightly unstable fire escape on the side of one building, holding up my large hammock that I used to stay away from the worst of the rats and roaches on the disgusting New York ground. I might be homeless, but I liked my hygiene. Plus, my various genetic abnormalities occasionally got out of hand. Unlike most mutants or mutates, my abilities getting out of hand didn't mean any kind of mental overload or possible public destruction most of the time. The less chance my instincts had to try to devour a New York rat raw, the better in my opinion. My abilities were odd enough to malfunction that way.

Making sure I hadn't been followed, though I had kept a careful eye on that the whole way home, I climbed into my dusty hammock and emptied out my money from my first location of the day. Reaching for the ropes that held my hammock up, I carefully pulled myself up the slightly fraying tendrils so I could grab the box carefully attached to the underside of the fire escape landing above my hammock where nobody could easily see it. Settling back down on my cheap cotton home, I gently pulled the lid off the metal box. I took out the orange, paper towel filled with blueberries, and small satchet of herbs for tea before placing my newly earned money in the newly emptied spot. I kept the five dollar bill the lawyer had given me, planning on using it for some hot water and maybe protein. Beans were most likely, but maybe I'd get lucky and be able to have meat.

Putting away the thirty-six dollars I was saving back in the tin, I climbed back up the ropes and secured it back into the blind spot taped under the fire escape. By the time I was done taking my sweet time eating my meager meal of fruit, it was one in the afternoon. I sat on my cheap cotton makeshift hammock, tilting my head back and closing my eyes to just listen to the city around me.

It was hard. My hearing wasn't the best. I wasn't deaf, but some hearing aids would probably help me out a ton. Then again, my eyesight was also pretty poor and I could also benefit from decent glasses. But, I was homeless. And therefore, dirt poor. There was no way in hell I'd be able to afford either of those things, but…

Part of me didn't want any, anyway. I didn't mind a slightly blurry sight. And having bad hearing meant that I wasn't constantly overwhelmed by the noise of New York. I had other things to make up for it, anyway. I didn't need perfect hearing or sight.

Regardless, it was nice to sit back and try to listen to as much as I could hear when I got a quiet moment to do so. Right then, on my slightly swaying home, I could hear the muted bustle of countless conversations, countless voices. I could hear the rumble of vehicles and the occasional bark of a particularly close car horn. I couldn't discern any single sound from one another, but they blended together in a way that was beautiful in its own way. A new sound, a symphony of the city. Every sound blurred together to make something new.

Yeah. Screw hearing aids, this was just fine.

I sat there for who knows how long, in a mostly meditative state as I listened to the slightly muted city. I could feel the heat of the sun farther along in the sky, which eventually told me that I had sat still for long enough. Basking was fun and all, but it was time to go back to performing to see if I could squeeze any more money out of the busy people in the city.

Pushing myself slowly out of my hammock, I sighed. People made me nervous, I didn't like being around too many at a time. I was a loner. But survival was survival, I'd bite the bullet for now. Maybe I could sneak onto a high school campus to get hot water, they had to have a microwave in the teacher's lounge. If I timed it right, I'd be fine. After all, I was supposed to be in school anyway.

Speaking of which, I needed to remind myself to be on the lookout for truant officers.

Wait. Hot water. Coffee was made with hot water.

Tugging a certain card out of my pocket, I smiled. A quick trip wouldn't hurt, would it? After all, I needed my daily tea.

—*—*—*—*—*

Okay. The trip to the law firm had been uneventful, nobody had been inside when I slipped in the small area and stole some hot water. Ironically, that had been the part of my day I had been most worried about. It was new. New people, new territory, unknown dangers.

But it was something I did every day that ended up screwing me over that night. I had just finished my last street performance of the night, my new twenty-two dollars in my bra as I slunk into the darkened alleyways just after midnight. My mouth was open, allowing me to navigate the nearly pitch-black areas with ease as I deciphered the information being processed by the sensors inside and around it. The scent of my dandelion and chamomile tea from earlier still hung heavy around me though, making me slightly more vulnerable that usual. My fault for making such an herbal blend that time around.

Because of that, I almost didn't notice the block of human heat around the corner only a few feet away from me once I had made my way through the inky alleyways for at least ten minutes. The shadows clung heavily around every wall, denying me the ability to see the person with my eyes. But I didn't need to. The pits hidden just under one layer of skin on my lips could easily sense his heat, could easily give me a mental image of his ninety-eight degree body standing with perfect stillness right around the building's bend.

I froze as well, identifying easily that the person— male, he smelled like a male— was likely not a friend. I opened my mouth a bit wider, allowing my tongue to slip closer to the edge of my lips to better catch his scent.

Beer. Dirt. Sweat. Leather— that scent was low, so probably just his boots. Metal. Gunpowder.

He was leaning against the wall. Taking as silent of a breath as possible to gather my wits, I carefully stepped over to the building he was hiding behind. Placing my hand on the grimy brick of the wall, I closed my eyes and focused.

There. I could feel his heartbeat vibrating, first through his own body and then through the brick. A steady thump, not nervous or afraid. Collected. Calm. Pulling my hand away, I felt my lips tug down into a frown. The only people who held loaded guns while hidden around the corner of a building past midnight without any hint of nerves was a professional. And even with Fisk behind bars, professionals weren't uncommon in New York or Hell's Kitchen. But they weren't common, either.

Walking home that late at night was one of the only routines I allowed myself. I never took the same path, but I went at the same time every day. I could take care of myself better than most adults. But this presented a problem; he was standing at the lip of the dead end that held my hammock.

I had been followed. Someone had tracked me, somehow, until they had found the paths I could not change up. Until they located my end point.

Fuck.

The threat to my territory, my territory! Forced an instinctual hiss from the back of my throat. Unfortunately, the alleys were silent enough for that sound to make its way to the hidden gunman, who wasted no time swinging himself out of his hiding place and opening fire.

Silencer. Muffled shots rang out, the heat of the bullets in the air offering me enough warning to just barely dodge their path. But more heat signatures, ones that must have been just barely out of my range, started dropping from rooftops or running down alleyways. There were only four new people total, but that was already a bit of a handful for me. They all had guns.

Abandoning my attempt at stealth, I threw myself towards the original attacker, throwing my arm out in what would have been a clothesline for anybody else, but instead of staying straight my arm coiled inhumanly around the man's throat, my torso twisting so my right knee could knock his gun out of his hand before he could fire. My ears were able to pick up his strangled gasps since his head was so close to my own, but I doubted anyone else would be able to hear them.

But. Well. After another moment of close listening, I realized I had misjudged my strength and had snapped his windpipe. I frowned, but unwound my arm to let the man drop—not before kicking his gun far down the alley of course— because he likely was in too much pain and struggling too much to breath to attack me again. Sure enough, he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

I wasn't allowed any time to collect myself though, two of the new assailants showing up at the same time with their guns aimed. Neither had any hesitation with shooting at me.

I dove to the ground, but their bullets followed. Unfortunately, the guy with the broken windpipe ended up in the crosshairs with at least three bullets in his chest that had been meant for me. The scent of his blood perfumed the already musty air.

That made me curse under my breath. I was by no means a stranger to death, but I had hoped to avoid seeing it or being around it again as much as possible. Add that to my list of failures.

I twisted and leapt and ducked around the bullets, but not even the split second forewarning I got from the bullet's heat signatures could just magically make me fast enough to dodge them all.

So when two bullets made twin grazes on my shoulders, a primal hiss ripped itself from my throat.

No. Shit. I haven't eaten any protein today, and my metabolism is already slowed as much as possible. This situation isn't helping— I can't let it come out!

I could feel the primal source of my abilities trying to claw its way up, not thinking that I was capable of survival on my own. It might have earned me another graze on my leg, but I still took the time to push it down as far as it could go.

My foot found the night vision goggles of one of the men, shattering it and sending shards into his eye. The shriek echoed across the alley, silenced by my kick to his temple right as the last two assailants turned the corner.

That wasn't good. I was better at ambush, at one-on-one or two-on-one battles. Being outnumbered wasn't something I was great at walking away from in good shape.

But I would survive. I had to. Apparently they had decided I was more risk to them alive than I was beneficial. Not surprising.

I was able to get close enough to wrap my leg around the barrel of one gun and my arm around another. Ignoring the discomfort and vulnerability of my current position strung between the two men, I constricted my limbs around the weapons, leaving crumpled barrels in my wake.

I dropped from my precarious position, instantly trading punches with the two men who had discarded their guns without a second thought.

One of them had passed out after I landed a particularly hard punch to his forehead, but when I whirled around to face my last two attackers I ended up frozen in shock.

Perhaps I should have recognized the lack of gunfire from the last man to join the fray, or the suspicious extra seconds I had had to knock out the guy I had just finished with without getting hit from behind, but I hadn't.

And I definitely hadn't expected to see Daredevil landing one final hit onto the guy that I had been about to finish off. Five bodies lay in the alley now, one dead and four unconscious. I was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had only taken down three of those men.

"You would have had a bullet in your stomach if I hadn't shown up in time," the Devil's rough voice barely made its way through the thick air to my weak ears. "It was a good idea to get rid of the guns, but doing it the way you did just left you way too open."

It sounded like a harsh scolding despite the hints of praise and relief that seemed to be sprinkled throughout.

"Yeah, I'll admit that fighting against more than two people at once isn't my strong suit," I admitted slowly, keeping my mouth open and my eyes locked on the vigilante. I didn't have the cleanest record in the world, especially for a fifteen year old, so I didn't know whether or not he was gonna rough me up next. "When did you even get here?"

The man's head tilted to the side, and I felt as if his eyebrows would be raised if they weren't hidden under his red mask.

"I didn't exactly try to keep my fighting quiet when I landed down here. Didn't you hear me?"

I flinched, grimacing. The way he raised his head back up showed that he noticed.

"You didn't hear me," he said it as a statement, which made me huff.

"I'm not deaf, if that's what you're trying to ask. But yeah, I'm not that far off from it either."

He was silent for a moment. "So not only are you a teenager capable of taking several armed men down," he poked the guy he had just knocked out with his toe for emphasis, "but you're hard of hearing, too?"

I just stared at him for the moment, slowly backing up. This was already too much excitement for me for one night, I didn't need to be interrogated by the Devil of Hell's kitchen, even if it was a relatively peaceful interrogation.

"Look, we've obviously established the fact that I'm not normal. Good. Awesome. Now, I'm gonna pack up my stuff and move to a new alley and you're going to go punch up more bad guys. Alright? Sounds like a plan to me," I turned and walked straight to my hammock, hoping he'd take my hint and leave. I didn't need any extra craziness in my life, it was hard enough for me to get by as it was.

I had just finished climbing my hammock ropes to grab my cash box and landing back on the ground when I felt his hand on my shoulder. Of course I hadn't heard him come up behind me, damn jerk had probably taken the new information about my hearing into account when he decided to sneak up on me.

But when I instinctively turned to ram my metal cash box into his face, his hand was quick to catch me by the wrist. That contact was enough for me to figure out what was going on, and I growled lowly in irritation.

"What? Don't just sneak up on me like that!"

"Maybe you should be more aware of your surroundings," he retorted, letting go of me and letting me finish packing up my meager belongings. "You need to get off the streets. I can't let you just go to another alley, these guys are organized, dangerous. Their group has recently taken over more of Fisk's leftovers, they'll find you no matter what alleyway you hide away in."

I turned around, taking a deep breath in preparation to give him a serious tongue lashing. But the rain of sarcasm and sass never came, because in that instant his scent filed my mouth.

"Holy shit," I whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. I had smelled that very scent twice already— once when it approached me in the middle of the day, and again when I entered the office saturated in it. "You're that lawyer— the blind— oh my god," I whispered in a rush, unable to control my word vomit. I did, however, notice the man's muscles suddenly tense and I took a corresponding step backwards.

"How did you find out?" The man's rough whisper barely made its way to my ears, and I quickly forced my breathing so calm down so it wasn't muffling his voice. "C'mon, if it's that easy for you to pick it up, I need to know!"

"N-no, nobody else would be able to figure it out the way I did," I whispered back, flicking my eyes to the mouth of the alley where the passed out gunmen lay. I wasn't too worried though, even if they woke up we were speaking too lowly for them to hear. Probably. "I— Okay, this will sound really weird and I can't totally guarantee nobody else can tell this way, but it's super unlikely," I rambled, but he was patiently waiting for me to get to the point, arms crossing over his chest. "Uh, well," I cleared my throat. "It's, Uh, your scent."

"My scent," he said again, not necessarily sounding confused, but rather very caught off guard. His arms loosened and dropped back to his side. "Your sense of smell is heightened?"

I felt myself instantly straighten when he got it right on the first try, blinking a few times in surprise before I nodded— and then remembered he was blind, and confirmed it out loud; "Yeah. It… it works oddly with me though. I can only smell when my mouth is open."

"Well, that is weird," he confirmed, his mouth slightly tipping up into a smirk for a split second before disappearing. "Look, it really isn't safe for you here. We can talk more about this once I get you somewhere more secure."

I felt myself instantly lock up, my jaw dropping instead of clenching like most people's would when they were stressed— the better to sense my surroundings. "Look," I said slowly, then winced at my wording before continuing forward stubbornly. "I'm used to running. I'm used to fighting—"

"But you shouldn't be," he cut me off gently, frowning. "I understand you being cautious when you thought I was just some random guy being suspiciously kind to you. But now that you know I'm not a pedophile or anything—"

"Technically speaking I still don't know that for sure, but continue."

After what I figured was a glare (it was hard to tell with the mask), he continued. "—You know I won't hurt you. I won't. You're not a criminal, and you need someone to help you. I just helped you fight off five guys with guns. Just… trust me a little bit?"

I glared down at my ratty tennis shoes, frowning in thought for a long moment. I didn't do very well with trust. But he wasn't affiliated with organized crime, his firm took down Fisk. And he took down Fisk in his costume. As Daredevil. Who was offering to help me. Daredevil wanted to help me. And he was a lawyer by day, so he might be able to keep CPS off my back for a little while. And… and there was probably not very many people more well qualified to keep me safe than he was. At least, nobody else that would actually waste their time with a street rat like me.

"And I can identify people by scent too."

I jumped at his voice suddenly cutting through my thoughts, and stared at him in shock that I could feel resounding through my very bones when his words sank in. "Huh?" I squeaked lamely. He shrugged.

"Y'know, just thought you'd feel a little more comfortable if I shared another secret of mine."

I couldn't help but shake my head, not quite understanding why he was going through all this effort. But he was. Nobody had ever put that much effort into making me feel comfortable before, into legitimately and honestly trying to gain my trust.

But still. I didn't survive to age fifteen by trusting strangers on a whim.

So I reached forward, ignoring the stiffening of his muscles as I gently laid my hand on the center of his chest. I tuned into the vibrations of his heart, nearly overwhelming with my proximity to their origin. But that was good. The more easily I could tune into it, the easier I could pick up on fluctuations.

"You don't plan on hurting me, or turning me in to CPS or anyone else?" I asked softly, eyes closing to better focus in to his heartbeat.

"No," he answered immediately. His heartbeat stayed steady.

"You just want to keep me safe?"

"That's the plan."

Not a single fluctuation.

I slowly peeled my palm away from his suit, sighing and running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, okay then. Thanks for not lying, now let's go before the goons wake up."

Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this was a very good thing, because my most vulnerable week of the month was coming up in just two days. And no, I did not mean my period.

—*—*—*—*—*

Matt didn't have very many instances where he felt caught off guard. But when he was, it was usually because of some criminal or another. Not from the realization that a fifteen year old had just tuned in to his heartbeat to see if he was lying, just like he did on a near daily basis. It clearly wasn't through her hearing, obviously, but it was still the same tactic.

He just stood there, keeping track as the girl bundled her dusty makeshift hammock into a ball with her cash box in the center, holding the whole lump under one armpit.

"Do you usually channel your inner polygraph?" He decided to ask, one eyebrow raised under his mask despite the fact that he was actually pretty pleased by the realization. He couldn't help but wonder how similar her senses were to his, obviously there had to be differences if she could see and was fairly hard of hearing, but the thought of finding someone other than a certain asshole geezer that could somewhat relate to the way he observed the world made him very nearly giddy.

His comment earned a snort from the girl, and he could sense the muscles in her face move in a way that suggested she was smiling or smirking.

"Only when I need to, it's hard to do it all the time. I'll explain when we get to wherever you're taking me."

He nodded, accepting that answer as she fell in step slight behind him, Matt leading her out of the alleyway just as sirens could be heard heading in their direction. This made Matt glad that he didn't have to be facing the girl to be able to observe her, and he focused in on what he could sense of her to try to gauge just how bad her hearing was.

The sirens were nearly deafening to the masked man before the girl tensed and sped up to walk by his side. "You called the cops?" She hissed, sounding panicked. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"I wasn't going to let those guys get off easy, they need to be picked up. Maybe they can do us a favor and stay locked up. If you're that worried, we can always take the rooftops. The cops won't see us up there."

He carefully refrained mentioning the corpse that he couldn't just let rot. He knew it hadn't been her fault, and he didn't want to remind her of that guy just yet.

The girl stayed silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Rooftops sound good. I like heights anyway."

Matt felt himself smile, and his chuckle was just loud enough for the girl to hear. It didn't take long for the two to make their way up a fire escape and keep to the rooftops.

"Watch your step, it's easy to lose balance here," the vigilante warned her about one particularly wide jump as softly as he could while still being heard by her, earning a short snort from her.

"Don't worry about me, Double D. My balance is perfect," she gloated quietly right before taking— and perfectly sticking the landing to— the jump. Matt just shook his head with a small grin, and they ended up in his living room only ten minutes later.

"So, this is your safe place, huh?" The girl commented idly, walking around and getting a good look at the apartment. "So, who lives here? Or is this just a safe house of yours?"

"Oh, this is my apartment," he said casually after he closed and locked the window they came in through. He pointedly ignored how quickly the girl turned to him, or how her heartbeat picked up briefly in shock. "I figured this was the safest place for you to be," he explained as he peeled off his mask. Normally he wouldn't end his patrol for another two or three hours, but the girl was more important for the moment. "Come on, I'll help you bandage up those grazes of yours. And don't try to lie just because you know I'm blind now, I can smell the blood."

He heard her curse softly under her breath, which made him grin as he fished out the constantly re-stocked first aid kit. "Anyway, I know you went to our office and hung around the coffee maker for some reason, so you probably already know, but I'm Matthew Murdock. You can just call me Matt."

The girl nodded, and Matt could feel her gaze on him as he started to clean and bandage her wound. Her lack of reaction to the sting of the antiseptic made him frown— in fact, her lack of reaction to bullet grazes in general was concerning.

"I have to be in the right mood for coffee," The girl's voice was tentative, as if she was just trying to test out the waters. Now that the adrenaline had had time to wear off, she was awkward. Obviously she wasn't used to casually being around other people, which was also concerning. "But I like tea a lot. Which, Uh, you probably know. Even after being shot at you can still smell the tea on me," Matt had to laugh at that a little, because it was true.

And wow, it was a little surreal to be able to talk about something like that with someone who understood. For both of them.

"So you used the coffee maker to heat water for your tea?" He asked as he switched from one of her shoulders to bandage the other. She hummed and nodded in confirmation. "You know, dandelions are loaded with pesticides."

The girl laughed, a lot more freely than she had up until then. "Pesticides? You really think that's high up on my list of worries?" She asked with a large smile he could tell was on her face. "I'm homeless, I'm a hormonal teenager, and I'm being chased down by guys with guns and you think I'm worried about pesticides in my tea? But no, I stole the dandelions from an organic rooftop garden."

"Stole?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, but was just rewarded with a shrug that almost ruined his current wrapping on her shoulder.

"I'm homeless. Can't really avoid stealing sometimes. Besides, I make sure to only take what I need and not a single flower more. At least I don't pickpocket or anything."

"Okay, I'll give you that."

It wasn't until he was disinfecting the last bullet graze on her leg that he realized something rather important.

"Oh," he raised his head so he could look in the direction of her face. "I just realized I don't know your name."

The girl chuckled. "I was wondering when you'd ask. I'm Hebi. Hebi Teal."

"Teal? Like the color?"

"Yep."

"Well then," Matt finished wrapping up her leg. "Don't think we're not going to talk about your homelessness, Hebi. I meant it when I said I want to help you. That means getting you off the streets for more than just a night or two."

—*—*—*—*—*

**A/N: Hello! This is not going to be directly related to the events in the TV series past the first season. Because I like Nelson & Murdock and stuff. The best avocados at law. This is going to probably have a weird mixture of TV, Comics, and MCU canon in it. Because I can't do things simply, apparently. Everything has to be complicated as shit.**

**So yeah, this is self indulgent as hell and probably isn't the best, but I hope you like it anyway! I have no idea where this is going but maybe we'll all get lucky and it will turn out good.**

**See you next chapter~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No idea if anyone is actually reading this, but thank you so much if you are! 
> 
> Yes, I know this is a hot mess. I’m posting this anyway.

When dealing with someone who might bolt at any moment, an individual must use caution. Take time and figure out which topics need to be covered right away, and which need to be given time before approaching.

Usually Matt skipped those steps and went straight to pummeling out the answers he needed, but obviously that method was only meant for people who deserved said pummeling. But he was, after all, a lawyer by trade. He knew how to prioritize when it came to questioning flighty clients, none of which were too different from the teenager stubbornly laid across his couch asleep. At least, not when it came to their reluctance to accept help.

The blind man had a feeling Hebi wasn't quite similar to any other living person in any other way than that.

Even Mister Fantastic would feel uncomfortable just looking at the way that the girl's limbs were twisted around each other like twist ties. She just overall seemed like a puddle of twisted up putty, even to Matt's senses. Part of him was glad he couldn't actually see the uncomfortable picture she displayed. Was that her knee she was using as a pillow? And her right arm was twisted around her left leg like the two flavors in a candy cane.

She had argued the night before that she'd be much more comfortable on the sofa than he would, and refused to take the bed with a stubbornness that would have made the Murdock name proud. Now he knew what she meant. If she could sleep peacefully in whatever the hell _that_ position was, she was probably just fine on the couch.

But the sun was inching up into the sky, and Matt knew he would have to go to work soon. He had to broach some of the topics he had purposely not brought up the day before, knowing that none of Hebi's problems would be solved just by spending the night in his apartment.

But shaking awake a fifteen year old who had somehow managed to mangle the barrels of two good quality guns the night before did not seem like the smartest idea in the world, regardless of the pretzel she had contorted herself into.

Food was always a good way to wake somebody up though, and Hebi's mouth was wide open with silent breaths so it should work. Without further debate, Matt made his way over to his fridge and started cooking.

Sure enough, the moment the smell of frying eggs made it past the stove the teenager started to stir. The lawyer felt his mouth tilt up in an amused smirk as he sensed her untangling herself and just generally getting back into a natural position before even attempting to stand up.

"So? Super flexible, huh?" He asked as casually as he could, flipping the eggs on the pan onto a plate he had waiting for her. "Anything to drink? I got soda and milk, and water obviously."

"Mm. Milk please," she managed to ask through a yawn, sitting herself down at the counter and picking up the fork he had set down for her. She seemed to stare at the eggs for a while before even cutting into them. "I guess I do owe you some explanation. I'll tell you my powers if you tell me yours?"

"I never said I had powers," he said teasingly, already knowing what her response would be as he continued to cook a serving of food for himself. Sure enough, Hebi snorted.

"Yeah, like a blind guy can be a vigilante _without_ some kind of ability. Besides, you already admitted to the smell thing."

"Fair enough," he agreed with a smile. The fact that she didn't even seem to entertain the idea of pity was nice, refreshing. Most teenagers were either crass about it or overly sympathetic, but she was neither. It was nice. "My other senses compensate for my sight. I could hear your heartbeat from down the block if I needed to, and I can feel your body heat pretty well. I can taste things in the air too, though that usually ends up way more of a nuisance than anything else. Vibrations in the air, you get the idea."

The slow breath from her was all the agreement he needed to that statement. "Wow," she breathed. "That's— that can give you an accurate picture of the world without needing to see. Echolocation, vibration sensitivity, heat sensory location, scent identification. There's almost no need for light registering," Matt could feel her shake her head in disbelief. "Damn, that's better than me. Like I told you yesterday, my hearing is shit," she took a big bite of egg, followed by a swig of the milk he set down for her.

He could feel the muscles in her face twist. "What? Don't like milk?"

"Hate it," she confirmed, making him raise his eyebrows. "Don't judge, I need the calcium. I'll stomach it if it keeps me healthy. Haven't eaten anything with any calcium in it for the past week, which is pushing it even for me."

Matt didn't want to focus too closely on the fact that she paid close enough attention to what she ate to know exactly which nutrients she needed. Instead he settled down with his own finished place of food, willing to patiently wait for her to finish her explanation of her abilities.

"Anyway. I do have internal ears, right at the back of my throat," Matt could sense her patting her neck with two fingers, right where it connected to the back of her jaw. "I can hear really low frequencies that way, some even lower than normal humans can hear. But my mouth has to be open to register that. Higher frequencies? Forget it. My internal ears won't pick it up. But I do have heat pits right under the outermost layer of skin on my lips, and along the bottom of my nose," she tapped those areas with one finger to illustrate her point. "Gives me heat vision. Pretty accurate too, probably even more accurate than yours. I can sense temperature and proximity, to a hundredth of a degree and a sixteenth of an inch. My tongue is covered in scent receptors, which is where my elevated sense of smell comes from," she stuffed the last of her egg in her mouth to give Matt time to decipher the information dump she had given him so far.

"So," Matt tapped a finger on the counter in thought for a moment. "Like a snake? Vipers and pythons have heat pits along their jaw, and snakes are famous for smelling with their tongue," he cautiously fished for information.

"Exactly like a snake," Hebi's voice was suddenly sullen, tired. Tired in a way that no fifteen year old should ever be. She sighed. "My bones are all segmented, like vertebrae. It allows me to move and twist them in pretty much any direction I want, like how a snake can twist their body into a knot. And my skin is sensitive to vibrations, probably not as sensitive as you are but definitely far beyond what a normal person is capable of. I can feel the vibration of a person's heartbeat from the opposite side of a building, as long as even a finger is touching the wall connecting to where they are leaned against. The floor works too, usually easier to sense their heartbeat's vibration through their feet anyway. And my muscle is proportionately as dense as a snake's. A constrictor's, to be exact," she reached for her cup of milk, downing it easily.

"And you think just my heightened senses are amazing?" Matt asked, eyebrow raised. He could feel Hebi's unimpressed glare.

"Well yeah. My physical shit won't help me if my mouth is duct taped shut and I can't figure out where the hell I am or if there's anything nearby I could use to help me out. I might be able to tell how many people are in the room with me if I can feel their heartbeats through the ground, but that probably won't help me out much. My eyesight isn't twenty-twenty either. It's pretty much a snake's eyesight— not good, but enough to get by without relying on inch thick glasses. You have a whole extra reliable sense than I do," she shrugged. "My other abilities are more internal. Like, I can adjust my metabolism. I can slow it down up to seventy percent so that I can survive for a week or two off of a glass of milk, a hot dog, and an apple. Can't speed it up much though, so my healing is only ever sped up by maybe a day or two compared to normal people. But you take what you can get—"

"That food example seems oddly specific," Matt interrupted her attempt to change the topic, his concern outweighing his need to learn anything else about her abilities. Judging by the pacing of her speech though, there was probably only one or two more aspects to it anyway. Just because she _could_ survive off of that little bit of food didn't mean she should have to, and it definitely didn't seem healthy.

"Okay, calm down," Hebi held out her hands to try and soothe him. He realized belatedly that she could probably feel his sped up heart rate through the counter. "Snakes can go several months after eating only one rat or mouse, so I probably could last a month on that much food. But I didn't even try, see? I know how to take care of myself, I don't take unnecessary risks. I'm okay."

"Thank you," he said once he was able to push away his worry. Which had been odd enough, it was normal for him to be a bit concerned for somebody in need but this was a bit much even for him. Why did he feel the need to keep her safe so strongly? He just met the the day before. Twenty four hours is not long enough to justify that strong of a reaction, and he knew it. "For trusting me," he continued. "You could have just half-assed your description or only told me a couple things. So thanks."

Hebi chuckled. "Nah," she said softly, turning her head in the direction of the window. Matt guessed she was looking out of it at the meager view it offered. "Thank _you_ for caring. That reaction… it's a bit foreign to me. 'Sides, knowing about what I can do doesn't automatically mean you'll be able to capture me or anything. We only agreed for me to explain my unnatural abilities, you said _nothing_ about confessing any learned skills to you."

Matt had to smile at that. "Be careful, or we might get confused about who the real lawyer is here," he teased.

"Or my background," Hebi continued impishly, and Matt could sense the smile on her lips. "You said nothing about telling you how I got my abilities or anything, so you're outta luck there. No tragic backstories today," she stuck her tongue out.

Matt raised his eyebrows, unable to get rid of the smile on his face. "What's that supposed to do? Smell my deepest secrets?"

"Oh ha, ha," she rolled her eyes, but the both of them turned to the door not a moment later when the smell of bagels drifted towards them from down the hallway.

—*—*—*—*—*

"Okay. When I told you not to bring her back to the office, I did _not_ mean to bring her back to your house."

"Technically, it's a really cheap apartment," I chimed in, successfully getting the newcomer's glare off of Matt and onto me. I recognized his scent as one of the two besides Matt's that saturated the office I had visited the day before. I turned my head to Matt. "Your partner?"

"Wait, how—"

"Yeah. Hebi, this is Foggy. Foggy, this is Hebi Teal."

"Foggy Nelson. Wait, don't distract me," the man drew his hand away from where it had been half extended for a handshake. "Dude, I get that being homeless sucks. But we don't have the resources to take in a kid."

"Yeah, well. I wasn't going to, until I had to save her from getting shot in the stomach with a military issue gun last night."

"Oh right, I still haven't thanked you for that have I? Thank you for not letting me die in a grimy alley."

"Wait, she was _what?_ And that means she knows you're Daredevil. You know he's Daredevil? Shit. You do. Dude, you tell her after only one day? Wait, why were men with military guys trying to kill a fifteen year old anyway?"

And there we go. The question I knew Matt had been skirting around all morning until he was sure I wasn't gonna bolt the moment he asked. I watched the redhead frown at his friend for a moment before sighing.

"I said no tragic backstories today," my voice was so soft that I couldn't even pick up exactly what I sounded like with my own ears, but I could tell by their reactions that it probably wasn't nonchalant like I was hoping. "But I guess if you're gonna try to keep me safe from them, you deserve at least the basics," I ran a hand through my hair, looking anywhere but them. "Okay. Let's get this straight, I'll stay here for nine or ten days max, then I'll be out of your hair, okay?"

"No, that's not the deal," Matt interrupted me, mouth set I a determined line. "You'll stay here until I know you're safe or I can get you set up in a safe arrangement—"

" _No,"_ I hissed, making both men tense in surprise. "I appreciate the sentiment, I do. Nobody gives a shit about the unlucky girl on the streets in New York, so I really do appreciate everything you've done this far. But I don't _deserve_ it, and you don't want someone who was trained to be a kid assassin just sleeping under the same roof as you for that long."

The silence was heavy and immediate following my statement.

"Those men," Matt said, clearly having to work hard to keep his voice loud enough for me to pick up on. How had he even already been able to assess what I could and couldn't hear, anyway? "Are they the ones..?"

"I seriously doubt those grunts know anything about me. But their bosses, yeah. Those guys wanted me to be an assassin they could sell out to the highest bidder, everyone trusts kids after all. I got out."

"But obviously they don't want you just running around unless you're under their thumb," Matt finished for me, and apparently my hum in response was enough of an agreement for him. "Yeah, you're not going back out on the streets any time soon. Who knows what they'll try in order to get rid of a rogue mercenary?"

That stumped me, and not even the odd gestures coming from Foggy could bring me out of my shock.

Just why was Matt sticking out his neck for me like this? I just… I just didn't understand.

But I was always too curious for my own good. I'd stick around, but just long enough to understand why this stranger _gave a fuck._ It didn't make sense yet.

"Later, Foggy!" the harsh whisper barely made its way to me. I probably only even registered it at all because my mouth was open and Matt's voice was just low enough for my internal ears to pick up. I snapped my eyes up to them, eyebrows furrowed in thought still.

Foggy sighed, shaking his head and putting the bag of bagels down on the counter. "Well. I brought breakfast because I didn't expect you to be up this early after getting beat up until who-knows-O'clock.

"Give Hebi one of—"

" _Half_ of one," I interrupted, but Matt apparently knew how to pick his battles because eh only frowned before consenting.

"Okay, give her half a bagel. She needs to eat more."

"What kind of bagel is it? Wheat?" I asked, watching as Foggy cut a bagel in half and gave me one side.

"Just plain," Foggy replied, blinking as he realized I didn't even attempt to go for cream cheese.

"Oh good," I was pleasantly surprised, smiling slightly. "That gives me a good amount of protein, fiber, and iron. I can always use whatever potassium and calcium I can get too, though I could do without so much sodium. And it's just been a while since I've been able to have a bagel at all, so thanks," I took a bite, chewing contentedly before realizing the room was just a bit too quiet. My eyes darted up, and it wasn't hard to notice both lawyers staring at me (or towards me) with expressions I couldn't quite decipher.

"You… just know the nutritional facts of bagels off the top of your head?" Foggy's voice was cautious as he slowly asked me that. I tilted my head slightly in thought, swallowing my bite of bagel.

"Well, I don't know the exact percentages or anything, and things vary depending on where you get the bagel from. But I try to memorize the general important nutrients in all the common foods, it helps when I have to decide what I need to eat next. The best way to make sure I never have to drag myself to the hospital is to make sure I get everything I need in my diet, no matter how pitiful of a budget I have to work with." I took another bite of my bagel. I wasn't used to talking so much, so my throat was starting to feel the strain. "If all I ate were cheap empty calories, I'd be dead of malnutrition long before I died of starvation."

The rest of my bagel was eaten in silence, both men slowly chewing alongside me.

"So. You go to school?" Matt asked slowly. Even I could hear the hope in his voice despite him definitely knowing better. My snort didn't seem to give him any extra confidence.

"I try to go for a while every year," I said slowly, shrugging. "But once CPS or the gunmen find out where I am, I ditch. I do try to spend a lot of time in the library teaching myself whatever I can though, so I'm not dumb," a pit in my stomach opened up, souring my mood. I wanted to go to school. It was normal, and I _liked_ learning. History and math I could usually do without, but I was totally up for suffering through them if it meant I got to learn the other subjects. If it meant I got to be normal for a while. "The mercenaries don't usually find my school though. They prefer to hunt me at night."

"So, in other words," Matt's purposely casual tone instantly caught my attention, making me narrow my eyes at him in suspicion. He ignored my sudden scrutiny of him, which I was pretty sure he noticed. I knew when people were being sly. "If we deal with the CPS issue, you'll agree to go to school?"

"That depends on what you mean by 'deal with,'" I replied slowly, frowning. "Besides, I've missed too much. Wouldn't I have to go to truancy court?"

"Let the lawyers handle that," Foggy interrupted, giving me a disarming smile that I didn't humor with any reaction. He was nice and all, and I could probably grow to really like him, but he was still a stranger for the moment.

"If we get you under the care of a legal guardian and off the streets, Foggy and I can handle getting you back into school. You might have to take a few tests to see where you stand, though."

"School is almost over for the year, though," I might not have been going, but I did keep track the the general school year schedule to know when I would and wouldn't be able to sneak my way inside one for shelter or food if necessary.

"Then it's best if we get you figured out so you can attend for the whole term next year," Matt plowed forward, not about to be discouraged by any of my arguments. I huffed; apparently he was just as stubborn as I was. That could get annoying.

"Okay, let's say I do agree. Who's gonna be my legal guardian? You?"

His smile was all the answer I needed.

"Woah, okay. Uh, nope. Crashing in your apartment for a week or two? Yeah, I trust you enough for that. You saved my life, and you didn't lie to me about wanting to keep me safe. But becoming my _guardian?_ Are you crazy? Wait, don't answer that," I held up my hand to keep him from answering, knowing he could sense it despite being unable to see my hand at all. "If you dress up in red and go around beating up assholes at the asscrack of night, obviously you're crazy—"

"My suit is red? I didn't notice," Matt innocently interrupted me, but I didn't buy that bullshit for a second and just continued on.

"— But you've known me for a day. A _day._ Saving me from some asshats trying to kill me does not justify wanting to be _legally_ _responsible_ for taking care of me—"

"You say _Ass_ a lot, don't you?" Foggy asked with one eyebrow raised. He was ignored.

"—And I just told you a few minutes ago that I was trained to be an assassin! What part of this whole situation makes you think that stepping up to be my guardian is a logical decision?"

"Well, have you killed anyone lately?" He asked, leaning on his arms towards me over the counter. I threw my hands up in exasperation. Did he not get it?

"No, but I _have_ killed before. I have baggage that makes the _airport_ jealous—"

"I'm not trying to date you, so I don't see what baggage has to do with anything," Matt interrupted firmly, making me pause. "Besides, do you think I'd go around as a vigilante without my own fair share of it?" I could feel his next sigh almost to my bones. "I'm not trying to be a father figure or anything—" my breath hitched at the word father, but thankfully he pretended not to notice. "—But you need someone to take care of you. Legally if for no other reason, because you are obviously _physically_ capable of taking care of yourself. And you don't have to worry about me being in danger because of anybody that might be after you, since I can protect myself just fine. We can just coexist, if that's what you are comfortable with. I'll be legally responsible for you, allowing you to go to school and have a safe place to sleep indoors every night, and you won't have to worry quite as much about money or food. You'll have someone to back you up in you're in danger, and the CPS will get off your back. There really isn't any reason for you to _not_ accept."

And there we go. The biggest reason people avoid getting tangled up with lawyers— they knew how to make a damn good argument. I grit my teeth.

"Sounds pretty one-sided to me," I muttered, hands clenched tightly into fists. "What's in it for you, huh? Nothing's ever free."

"Well," Matt straightened up, shrugging lazily. "I guess it'll help my conscience if I can make sure you're okay. But if it makes you feel better, I can always make you train with me on weekends at the gym I go to. I could use some combat practice against someone like you."

"So, what, that's it?" I asked again, frustrated that I couldn't wrap my head around the situation at all. "I get to be safe and taken care of, and you get _combat practice?_ That doesn't seem fair—"

"Why are you trying so hard to get him to give up on you?" Foggy's voice made Matt and I whip our heads over to him. The frown on the blonde's face seemed out of place, as if he was better off smiling and being serious just didn't suit him.

Then I made the mistake of looking into Foggy's eyes. Despite his arguments for not taking in a stray like me, he actually _did_ seem genuinely concerned for me. And eyes as honest as those just had a way of completely wiping away my urge to fight and stay stubborn.

"You know, you're just gonna make Matt even more determined to take you in," Foggy continued, making me furrow my brows in confusion. "You see, all you've been doing is arguing about why it's unfair to _him._ You haven't even once said anything about it being unfair to you, or asked for anything he didn't already offer. That selfless attitude is only gonna make him want to keep you safe even more. The two of you are clearly kindred spirits already— stubborn, selfless, badass. Please tell me you don't have a martyr complex," he met my eyes almost desperately. "You don't, right?"

"Uh, well I mean," I just didn't _get_ these people. "I… don't think so?" I shook my head, knowing Foggy had successfully thrown me off my game and now I didn't have any chance at winning my argument with Matt. "Damn it, tag teaming should not be allowed!"

"If it gets you to agree, I'm all for it," Matt quipped, dutifully ignoring my responding glare. I growled under my breath and crossed my arms, not caring how childish it was.

"Yeah, Yeah, fine, whatever!" I finally caved. "I won't get you to shut up about it until I do, and being able to stay in your apartment will seriously help me out for these next few days, so I don't really have much of a damned choice."

"Awesome," Matt said with a smile, standing up. "Foggy and I have to get to work now. I'll make a call to CPS— oh," he suddenly seemed to realize something, looking down at me. "You don't have a phone, so you?"

"Please tell me you know the answer to that already," I drawled, eyebrows raised. He nodded, unsurprised but frowning all the same, and disappeared into what I assumed was his room for a moment before coming back out.

"I can probably afford to buy you a cheap phone later. For now, take this. I usually use it as my Daredevil burner, but it'll be your phone until I can get you one. Don't call any of the numbers on it—"

"There's only two numbers on it anyway—"

"—and I'll call you if CPS decides to have a meeting with both of us today. I guess you can go out to perform, but if the CPS agents ask, I did not allow you to. Okay?"

"Yeah, I got it," I agreed easily as I stuffed the phone into my pocket. His nose wrinkle was easy to decipher.

"Oh come on, I'm homeless. You can't seriously expect my clothes to smell great."

"No, but now my burner is going to smell like Hell's Kitchen's alleyways."

"Just like your costume, get over it," I rolled my eyes and turned. "At least it doesn't smell like blood, too."

"Okay, point to Hebi."

—*—*—*—*—*

"So, she had super smell too, huh?" Foggy asked as he pretended to lead Matt, who obviously didn't need to be led but it was good for show. Foggy hadn't said anything while they were still in Matt's apartment, but he hadn't missed their little conversation about smells. "Wait, she can't still hear me can she?"

Matt chuckled at his friend's sudden panic, shaking his head. "No, our abilities aren't exactly the same Foggy. Yeah, she has super smell, but her ears aren't very good. I might get her a hearing aid, actually, if I can trick her into agreeing to it."

"You think she won't?" The blonde asked, eyebrow raised. "I'd think that most people would jump on the chance to improve their senses if they could."

"She's not most people," Matt said, mouth turned down at the corner. "She doesn't seem concerned about the issue at all. Even if hearing aids were free, I still think she'd deny having one. I think she needs glasses too, but I'm not dumb. I might not even have the ability to get her to agree to one of those things, let alone both, and her hearing needs more help than her eyes do."

Foggy sighed, shaking his head. When Matt tilted his head curiously, Foggy rolled his eyes. "Honestly Matt, I'm giving you two months."

"For what?" The redhead asked, not following his friend's path of thought.

"Before you adopt her. Two months."

"I know you heard me when I said I wasn't planning on being a father figure," Matt argued, eyebrows drawn down. "I just wanna help out. Being a guardian is one thing, but adopting her.."

"You will, just watch," Foggy persisted, shaking his head again. "She adorable, obviously has a tragic past, morally ambiguous, and orphaned. If she was ten years older, I'd be worried that you were going to date her. But she isn't, and if there was ever a person that you'd adopt, it's someone exactly like her. I'd bet money on it if I had any to spare."

"You're wrong Foggy," Matt continued. "She probably won't even try to get to know me more than necessary. She isn't the type to get close to people, there's no way she'd let me adopt her even if I wanted to."

"Whatever you say, Murdock. Whatever you say."

—*—*—*—*—*

It was at four thirty that same evening that Matt found himself walking in to the nearest CPS building. He couldn't help but be grateful that Hebi had had his business card still on her, otherwise she probably wouldn't have been able to get ahold of him when she was picked up by CPS. Apparently the teen was smart enough to know that continuing to run from the agency would not help their case for him to become her guardian.

"I thought I said not to go out today," he said in his best Responsible Adult Voice, and was pleased to find that Hebi was apparently also smart enough to know to play along.

"Yeah, but who knows how long these guys are gonna take?" He sensed her turning her head towards the agent in the room, likely glaring at the older woman. "And I wanted a bit of extra money. Not like I could go back to school yet anyway, I don't think I'm even still on the roster."

"Mister Murdock, how do you even know Hebi?" The agent interrupted their little act, and Matt raised an eyebrow. He was hoping Hebi could take over from there, since she was more likely to know what would or wouldn't conflict with her past.

And look (hypothetically) at that, she knew exactly what to do.

"He knew my mom. Family friend, right? But he went off to college so I never thought he'd be able to take care of me. Besides, didn't think I'd ever see him again anyway. Didn't expect him to recognize me when I was out dancing on the street a couple weeks ago, but apparently he heard my voice when I was thanking the crowd and decided to check if it was me. You'd think my voice would sound way too different after eight years, but apparently it hasn't changed enough for him to not recognize it."

The agent frowned, raising her eyebrows. "You are okay with going to live with an old family friend you haven't seen in eight years?"

"I know him better than I know you or any of your stupid foster families."

Okay, maybe Hebi's attitude couldn't completely be reigned in. Matt sighed, glaring at what he hoped was close enough to her face to be effective.

"Okay," the agent took a breath to keep her composure, but overall seemed unruffled by the barb. "In that case, you won't mind if I ask Mister Murdock some questions about his friendship with your mother in private, would you?"

Matt could feel his heart briefly pick up, his mind working quickly. He'd have to be careful, any misstep and—

"Don't worry. I'll coach you from the hallway," Hebi's surprisingly quiet whisper easily registered in Matt's ear, making one of his patented confident smirks rose onto his lips to mask the more sly one that wanted to be in its place. Well, he definitely chose a smart girl to take into his care if nothing else. Her voice had to be far too quiet for her to even hear herself, which would account for the slight oddities as far as the pitch went, but it showed that she was comfortable with her disabilities and was not afraid to work through them.

Okay, Maybe Foggy was right and they were a little too similar already. But that didn't really make Matt want to back down, it only encouraged him further.

It didn't take long for Hebi to make her way to the hallway, where she continued to whisper under her breath to give Matt all the information he needed to fool the agent.

"So when did you meet Miss Teal?"

"I can't remember exactly when, but I met her when I was still in high school. I liked hearing her sing, as you can probably imagine," a not so subtle nod to his blindness usually succeeded in making whoever was questioning uncomfortable, which held true with the CPS agent, who faltered slightly.

"In the seedy bar she sang in?" Disbelief colored the woman's voice, but Matt just shrugged.

"I'm used to seedy, and it's not like I could really see how bad it was. I'd go maybe once a week, have a soda and just listen. She picked up on it, and after the first time we stumbled into each out on the street it just turned into a casual friendship. I’d continue to come down during my breaks from Undergrad. I'd come by to visit Hebi every now and then, and Stella would sing sometimes if I was feeling stressed. Music therapy, you know.”

"I see," the agent sighed, probably sad that she couldn't refute anything he said. Matt ignored her, patiently latching on to every whispered word drifting from Hebi in the hallway. She was just babbling about anything and everything she could think of about her mother, not being able to listen in to the Agent's questions to give Matt direct answers. It was enough for Matt's own quick brain to supply a story, despite his usual lack of skill when it came to lying.

Oddly enough, he would usually be a stuttering mess if he had to lie about Daredevil. But the fact that he was lying for somebody else's well being made him significantly calmer and the words flow a bit easier.

It helped that Hebi occasionally went on a tangent about possible answers he could give.

"I was in graduate school before she died. I didn't even hear about it until months later," Matt was saying, making a silent note to himself to not mention her mother's death to Hebi. He knew how tired he got of people apologizing for his dad's death when they had nothing to apologize for, he knew Hebi would probably appreciate it more if he didn't bring up the topic at all.

The questioning went on for the better part of twenty minutes, and despite a few stumbles Matt was able to get through it. Hebi was still mumbling when the office door opened again and he stepped out with the Agent into the hallway with her. It took a second, but Hebi stopped mumbling when she noticed they were there, and stood up with a surprising amount of hope in her eyes that only the Agent could see— but Matt could still sense her nerves from her heartbeat, and knew she was hoping for the best.

"Alright. Now Mister Murdock, I'll talk to Hebi alone. After that, we'll discuss possible guardianship."

—*—*—*—*—*

"I'm so glad lying was part of assassin 101," I breathed once it was all over and Matt and I were walking back to his apartment at slightly past seven that night. It had taken forever for us to go through all the motions— questioning, background checks, apparently assessment for whether Matt was even qualified to be a guardian, and of course the dreaded paperwork.

Matt chuckled. "Well, _I'm_ glad you took advantage of my hearing to give me the verbal cheat sheet I needed, otherwise we would have been screwed."

"I thought guardians weren't supposed to cuss around kids," I teased him, earning a playful huff and an eye roll I could just barely see through the side opening between his eyes and his glasses.

"You've said worse things than 'screwed' in the past day since I've known you, and I doubt I could get you to stop so there's really no point. Besides, we've only just filed the paperwork. An actual court investigator will give us the same exact treatment in a few days, and then it's the court hearing."

"Which makes me glad that you are a lawyer," I admitted, shaking my head. "No way I'd be able to rest easy until the whole thing was over if you weren't. But you know what you're doing, so I'm not as nervous."

"Let's just get dinner so you can speed your metabolism back up to something normal."

"Shit, I was hoping you'd forget about that," I hissed with a grimace. His answering smirk annoyed me.

"Yeah, you're not going to get away with barely eating just to make it easier on my wallet, kid. The first thing I'm doing as your unofficial guardian is getting you back on a normally sized diet."

I watched my shoes for a while as we walked, but found that I couldn't get rid of the goofy smile on my face even when I tried thinking of dying puppies.

"I think I can live with that."

— ***—*—*—*—***

**A/N: there we go! Please excuse any spelling errors, this is a first draft and my keyboard on my phone couldn't keep up very well with my typing speed so there are probably mistakes everywhere. I might fix them if I feel up to it later, like I fixed all the mistakes I caught in chapter 1. You're welcome.**

**Also, I have pretty much no idea how the whole guardianship thing works, so I did five second research and flew by the seat of my pants on the rest. Allow for inaccuracies, thanks. Hope you guys like this!**

**See you next chapter~**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yeah, Karen is gonna know about DD, because I said so. We'll just work on the assumption that she recently learned about it and just finished recovering from the shock of the truth and everything like a week or two before the story starts. Kay? Kay.**

— ***—*—*—*—***

The day after the CPS visit was largely uneventful, besides the meeting with the court investigator. By then though, Matt and Hebi had already talked to one another and set their stories in stone so they wouldn't accidentally give each other away. Court date set, they had simply went about the rest of their day as normal. Well not Hebi since she would have normally been busking or hunkered down in an alleyway, but she figured sleeping the day away while basking in the window of Matt's apartment was nice too.

When Matt woke up on the morning of his fourth day knowing Hebi, he instantly went to work on the routine they had already started to hash out. Namely, ignoring that day's unique sleep-pretzel she had somehow curled into in the middle of the night and starting breakfast for her. That morning it was just toasted ham and cheese, but it still did the trick.

He heard her untangling herself as she always did, and laying down flat for a moment. He was starting to realize that that was a habit of hers, laying down flat in the morning for a few seconds before opening her eyes. She probably liked getting a feel for the vibrations around her before actually getting up, it's what Matt would probably do in her situation.

But instead of yawning and joining him at the table after she opened her eyes like she had the previous two mornings, her heart stuttered for a moment. The redhead froze, recognizing her brief panic before her heartbeat slowed down again but remained slightly unsteady.

"Hebi?" He called out slowly, frowning at her odd behavior. He heard her take in a slow breath before sitting up and walking over to him. "You okay?"

"Huh?" He could feel her head raise up in his direction, her voice too tense for somebody who had just woken up. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Uh huh," Matt didn't believe her for a second. "Your heartbeat is still uneven. What's up?"

"Wha— you are way too observant for a guy who spent the past two nights kicking the snot out of thugs until three in the morning," she hedged, reaching out to grab the sandwich he had placed on a plate for her. "When was the court date again?"

Matt sighed, reminding himself that he hadn't even known the girl for a full week yet. He let it go, deciding he could ask Foggy later if something seemed wrong with her. Maybe it was something that required eyes that could actually register light.

"Next Thursday, why?"

"Exactly a week," she mumbled, biting off a huge chunk of her sandwich and chewing slowly. "Nothing, just wanted to know. After that, we have to go to truancy court and see what's gonna happen as far as school goes for me, right?"

"That's the plan, yeah," Matt agreed, turning off the stove and sitting down with his own food. He couldn't help but feel amused by the tortured groan that came from Hebi's throat.

"If I never have to set foot in any court after this ever again, it will be too soon."

"Yeah, fat chance if your guardian is a lawyer," Matt responded ruthlessly. He would have smirked, but the glare he should have felt from her was absent. He couldn't help but furrow his brows—he could feel her muscles contracted into what was probably a scowl, but for some reason it didn't feel like it connected to his face.

"Do you have any extra sunglasses?" She asked suddenly, making Matt pause right after taking a bite of food. He frowned as he chewed and swallowed, wondering what was up with the girl today.

"I think so, but it's not like I have much of a reason to switch between them. I might have a pair that covers a bit more than these round ones do though, why?"

"It's bright out today," which Matt knew was a lie because he could feel the muted heat coming in through the window. It was hot but cloudy. "I was wondering if I could borrow them?"

"I know we agreed that you'd come to the office today to meet Karen and just get out of this apartment for the day, but I really don't think you need sunglasses. You'll be inside with Karen for most of it."

He could feel her heartbeat go slightly uneven again, telling him that she was getting a bit anxious about something. They were interrupted by Foggy's scent coming down the hall.

The moment Hebi smelled him, the teenager stuffed the last of her sandwich in her mouth and ran into the restroom.

Definitely a light-registering issue then, Matt thought. No reason to chat calmly with a guy she knew was an experienced fighter but run away at the appearance of his much more amiable best friend otherwise.

"And good morning!" Foggy was way too happy for such an early hour as he walked through the unlocked door, but he quickly noticed the missing body. "Where's the little ninja girl?"

"Hebi ran into the restroom as soon as we noticed you were down the hallway," Matt informed him, mouth tilted down into a frown. "Her heartbeat's been a bit off all morning, I think she's hiding something from me that I can't see."

"Oh?" Foggy's eyebrows rose. "What is this? Is Foggy Nelson actually necessary for unraveling a mystery for the dreaded Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

Matt felt a few muscles in his shoulders loosen. Foggy's energy was definitely what he needed, dealing with a kid just wasn't something Matt was used to.

"Yeah Foggy. Let's try to get her to come out and maybe we can figure out what's wrong."

"You mean, maybe _I_ can figure out what's wrong," Foggy corrected with a beaming smile. Matt just grinned, and lifted his head towards the restroom.

"Hebi? I know you're sitting on the ground in there. You're gonna have to come out eventually if you wanna get out for the day and meet Karen."

"On second thought, how about I don't meet her until after the court day? I mean, what if they decide you can't be my guardian? We'll become best friends for nothing!"

"Hebi, CPS is pretty desperate for a way to just get you a place to stay that you won't run away from, they're not likely to turn me down at this point. Now come on, Foggy and I have work to do."

"And best friends? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Not helping, Foggy."

They stood there for a long moment before the door slowly creaked open, and Hebi walked out.

"Okay, even I can tell you're walking backwards," Matt deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Turn around, Hebi."

The moment she did, Foggy's colorful curse proved Matt right.

"Holy shit! How the hell did that happen overnight?" Foggy seemed so shocked that it put Matt on edge.

"What? What is it?" He asked impatiently.

"Matt, she's blind. Hebi's eyes are milky white right now."

—*—*—*—*—*

The silence from Matt was almost deafening. I could only squirm in front of the both of them uncomfortably, feeling Foggy's gaze heavy on my face and my heat pits able to pick up Matt's sightless one directed not far off from it.

"Is this why you said you'd stay here for nine or ten days max?" Matt's voice was almost too soft for me to hear, and I didn't have my eyesight to follow his lips this time to help me out. I licked my lips, ignoring the shock to my senses that it created when my tongue temporarily blocked out my heat vision.

"Well, yeah," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. "I, Uh, didn't get to cover this part of my abilities with you the other day."

"So this is normal?" I could tell that Matt was raising his eyebrows without even needing to see it, the evidence was all in his voice. "You just, what, wake up every now and then unable to see? You didn't think that was important enough to share? 'Hey, Matt, just so you know, I'm gonna be blind and almost deaf for a few days so don't let me wander out alone to stumble into the guys who are trying to find me,'"

"Oh that's rich," I snapped, scowling. "You're blind and you still go around getting beat up every night in a Halloween costume. I have heat vision too, in case you forgot. I'm just fine. I'm sorry if it felt really awkward and shitty of me to complain to the _permanently blind dude_ that I can't register light for the next week. So what if I'm channeling my inner Hellen Keller for a few days?"

For a long moment, all I could hear was my own annoyed breathing echoing in my ears.

"Yeah, not all my senses are as enhanced as yours," I could tell my voice was low, it echoed in my own internal ears. "And yeah, this is my most vulnerable week of the month. I don't have a staticky picture of the world, I just have my heat vision and my smell to help me out. Maybe the vibrations if I can touch the ground or something. But that's more than enough, I've survived for eight years dealing with these weeks."

"It's not that," Matt argues, but his voice seemed strangely beaten. "I know you can take care of yourself. Trust me, I know that being blind doesn't make you weak. But this is still kind of important. If Foggy noticed it right away, how are we going to hide your eyes? And those men, if they see you like this they could send in people you haven't met yet and you might not realize they're hostile until it's too late. They don't need guns to take you down, what if they use something you don't smell in time? Or if they disguise so that the smell isn't out of place?"

I could only lower my head, glaring in the general direction of my feet.

"If I'm gonna keep you safe, I have to know things like this so I can plan out how to work around them," Matt just thundered on, and I knew he was right.

"... We can start with those extra sunglasses of yours?" I pitched in hopefully, feeling a lopsided smile make its way onto my face. He seemed to sense it, my heat pits picking up on the way he relaxed into his seat.

"They're red," Foggy's voice startled me, I had been so worried about Matt that I had forgotten he was there. "Karen's probably gonna take you shopping too, so I'll tell her to get some sunglasses more your style for you if this whole blind thing is gonna be a regular occurrence."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't get them out of shopping for me. But despite the caseload I knew they had now that Fisk was down, I knew they couldn't have a whole bunch of extra money to spend on me. But I also didn't have to pay for food anymore, so my busking money should help out if they insisted on buying stuff for me.

"I have about a hundred and ten dollars from performing earlier this week," I piped up.

"I'm giving Karen money for anything you might need," Matt confirmed my suspicions, but I just shook my head.

"Then I'll save you a hundred bucks. Non negotiable."

I had a feeling he was frowning even if I couldn't sense or see it, but he didn't argue.

"Congratulations, Murdock. You found the one kid in the city just as selflessly stubborn as you. Come on Hebi, I'll show you where his other glasses are."

I let Foggy enter Matt's room first, following his already familiar shape of heat. He was looking through something that was basically a slab of coolness, probably not something used very often. It wasn't very big, so probably just a box.

"Matt doesn't use these very often, but here you go," Foggy said, and I didn't have much time to react as he turned and slid something over my ears. My muscles were tense, fighting the instinct to attack whoever _dared_ touch me without warning, but I knew Matt wouldn't like that. And this was Foggy, even after only knowing him for three days I knew he was pretty harmless.

I rose my hand up, running my fingers along the object to see that it was only a pair of sunglasses. Right. Exactly what we went into the room for in the first place, why would it have been anything else? The lenses were pretty wide, and curved a bit at the side to block as much light as possible without being too clunky or ugly. Obviously meant for someone blind, but if Foggy chose them then they could probably pass for normal sunglasses easily.

"Uh, thanks," I managed, my muscles still locked, and I took two carefully measured steps backward. I didn't generally like being very close to people. For various reasons. "But, uh, a bit of warning next time you're gonna do something like that? I don't like being touched very much, I might hit you if you catch me by surprise."

"Oh!" Foggy seemed to notice that he had just done something fairly distressing for someone who wasn't only blind, but also hard of hearing. Generally touching someone with even one of those issues without warning wasn't advised, which he probably already knew being Matt's friend and business partner but probably hadn't applied to me yet considering I had been able to see just fine the day before. "Sorry. Guess this whole thing, uh, hasn't sunk in quite yet."

I snorted, finding it disturbingly easy to smile around the goofy man. "It's only for the next six days. They should peel off next Thursday morning."

I had a feeling Foggy was making a face, able to sense some of the warmer muscles in his face bunch up but not really giving me much information on the exact face he was making.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say something that sounds really gross and move on to the stuff that would embarrass Matt if I said it in the same room as him."

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure he can hear you," I remarked, eyebrows raised.

"Well yeah," Foggy agreed with a shrug. "But this way he can pretend he _wasn't_ super embarrassed when we go back out. I'm gonna put my hand on your shoulder, okay?"

I nodded, able to relax my muscles for him since I knew what to expect when he reached out to gently lay one hand on my shoulder. And I had to instantly tap down my urge to lean into it, because the air conditioning was on and his hand was pleasantly warm even through the fabric of my shirt.

"I know Matt is a bit overprotective, and he can come off a bit harsh when he's worried like that. But when he says he isn't underestimating you, he means it. He just likes to know everything that can help him feel a bit more capable of keeping his friends safe."

"He's known me for less than a week, I seriously doubt he considers me a friend already. I'm like an abandoned puppy he's nursing back to health—"

"Nuh uh uh," Fogg interrupted, waving a finger in the air. "Matt doesn't do pity. You can be excused for not knowing that yet, but it's really not his thing. He's able to help you, so he's going to. And he might not admit it, but I think he definitely thinks of you as a friend already."

And man, I wished I had more time to let _that_ sink in before Foggy continued, but he didn't seem to notice the emotional turmoil he had subjected me to and just went on talking without pause.

"And honestly, he's probably feeling a bit guilty right now so you should go easy on him."

Wait— what?

"Guilty? What the hell does he have to feel _guilty_ about? I just didn't wanna make things awkward by mentioning my monthly, temporary blindness."

"That's exactly it," Foggy's sigh was heavy enough to barely tickle the tip of my nose, making me blink despite the discomfort it caused my eyes. "It's probably his catholic guilt complex he has going on. But he doesn't have anyone else that understands what it's like, being blind I mean. He's probably secretly a little happy that he has somebody that can relate, and that's making him a bit testy because he doesn't _like_ being happy about it."

Ah. That… strangely made a lot of sense.

I slipped my foot out of my sock, lying it on the ground and tuning into the vibrations running through the apartment. "Tap your foot twice if that's true," I turned my head away from Foggy when I said that so that he knew I wasn't talking to him. I figured asking Matt to his face would be too awkward for the man, and if I asked while in another room then we could both pretend the exchange never happened after I went back into the living room with him. "I'm not gonna be mad if it is, you know. It makes sense. Kinda like feeling relieved when you meet someone else with abilities because you feel like you belong a bit more, right?"

The air was silent for a long moment before I felt two very reluctant taps echo through the ground and onto the skin of my bare foot. I smiled, strangely happy that he was honest with me. I turned to sit on what I suspected was the bed (and my suspicion was confirmed a moment later when it sunk under me slightly) to put my sock back on. As I did, I heard Foggy whistle and my heat pits sensed his head moving side to side as he shook it in what I guessed was disbelief.

"Kid, do you give lessons? Because I've never seen anyone handle Matt that easily before. And I was his roommate back in law school."

I paused with my sock halfway on, finding myself thinking back to the way Matt fought. That night after the CPS visit I had snuck out to watch him, scared that the first person to put this kind of careful effort into me would disappear. I only stayed out for half an hour, only needing to see the way he fought once to understand. The way every hit was efficient and ruthless, measured and professional. The ease that it seemed to come to him to take down multiple people at once.

The way he never seemed to hesitate to pick himself up whenever he was kicked down.

There were many things I didn't understand about Matthew Murdock, but that was not one of them. A person didn't learn to fight like that, or how to keep getting up like that, by living an easy life. They learned that by being knocked down mentally and physically over and over until they built up such a _hatred_ for being knocked down that they couldn't stay on their backs long enough for it to sink in that it had happened again.

"I guess it's easier to know how to treat someone that is as similar to you as he is to me," I muttered, slipping the last of my sock over my heel and standing up. I didn't give Foggy a chance to react to what I had said, turning and walking out of Matt's bedroom almost immediately.

"Okay, you boys have work to do and I apparently have someone new to meet. Fun," I had tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, I really had. But instead I just had something new to add to my list of failures. "Please tell me she doesn't wear heavy perfume."

Matt just chuckled, slinging something over his shoulder that I guessed was his work bag. He grabbed something else, which by the vague shape I got from my heat pits was his walking stick. The thing he didn't actually need.

I was suddenly very glad I invested way more of my busking money than any other homeless person would approve of on thick-soled shoes to muffle the vibrations in the ground, because him using that thing would get annoying fast.

"That's it? All I get is a chuckle?" I pushed, but Matt still didn't respond. "Oh come on, I can't rely on Foggy's word here so you gotta give me something. Don't just leave me hanging here, c'mon!"

—*—*—*—*—*

Oh thank God, it was only floral scented soap and deodorant. I could handle that.

"You must be Hebi! Matt and Foggy told me about you," the voice that greeted me was pleasant, and very typical of a voice for a secretary but that was neither here nor there. I could sense her hand held out for a shake, and easily met it with my own before Matt or Foggy could comment.

"You're Karen, right?" I responded as kindly as I could. I was currently blind and that woman was taking me shopping for clothes and other things, I had rather not piss her off and end up with an ugly neon wardrobe. Matt wouldn't be able to notice and warn me before I put any of it on, either.

"Yep. And the boys told me I was in charge of taking you on a girl's day today," I turned my head towards the limo of heat that was Matt, hoping he had _not_ actually phrased it like that. His pointed lack of reaction did not encourage me. "Don't worry, they told me about the situation."

"New development, actually," Matt spoke up, probably still a bit annoyed at my lack of warning when it came to the whole sight issue. I sighed, already expecting it when he reached out to tug off the glasses that sat firmly on my nose.

Karen's gasp was not surprising either, but the speed at which she calmed down _was._ She groaned a little, and I could sense some of her muscles twisting in her face area. Again my heat vision couldn't really give me an accurate picture of the exact face she made, but it was probably a frown or scowl.

"Now I have two blind trouble makers to watch after. How did this happen in just a day or two, anyway?"

"It's regular," I answered for the lawyers. "For one week every month, my eyes are like this. It peels off on the seventh day."

Foggy's accompanying disgusted gag was studiously ignored by the rest of us.

"Peels?" Karen asked, tilting her head. "Matt told me that all of your… abilities are snake-like, even if he didn't tell me exactly what hose abilities are. So, I did some research last night out of curiosity."

Oh boy.

"Apparently when snakes shed, they produce an eye cap over their eye that comes off along with the rest of their shed skin. Is this," I registered a vague wave of her hands in my direction, "Related to that?"

"Thankfully I don't shed my whole skin, that would be gross," I wrinkled my nose. "But yeah, this is my version of a shed cycle. But the only scales I have are the translucent ones over my eyes, so it's really only a drawback. _Some_ of us don't have completely beneficial mutations."

Matt snorted. "Okay, you know just as well as I do that having senses elevated to this degree isn't _completely_ beneficial."

"True enough," I conceded.

"Is it just me, or is it still a bit surreal to just be casually having a conversation like this?" Karen asked Foggy, who I could sense rub his forehead.

"Nope. Definitely not just you."

It wasn't long before Matt and Foggy had to go off to do adult lawyer stuff, leaving me alone with Karen in the office. Considering the fact that we had only just been introduced, we just sat awkwardly silent as Karen did some paperwork and I tried to identify every chemical in her body wash to distract myself.

"So, uh. Foggy told me you were trained as an assassin."

Yes, because that's amazing conversation material. I sighed, figuring she was probably just awkward because she had no idea how to start a conversation with me. Still, that was a pretty horrible attempt.

"I try not to think about it."

"Well, _yeah,_ I can't imagine it's exactly fun. But, you obviously know how to fight because of it, right?"

I tilted my head, wondering what she actually wanted to know. "That is definitely something they teach in the intensive training course, yeah. I learned a bit extra after I escaped from a makeshift teacher here and there. Nobody that I got to know well enough to tell all of my abilities, but saving a person's life or helping them out with a job tends to earn a week or two of lessons. Why?"

"Oh, uh. Before Fisk was taken down, I… I had a bit of an issue with a guy thinking I knew too much about his operation—"

"Did you kill him?"

That caught Karen off guard, and I could feel the heat in her face slightly drop because of the blood draining from it. Her breath stuttered, which I could easily catch by the scent of it becoming irregular.

"What kind of question is that?" She asked weakly. I frowned, leaning forward.

"If someone ever thinks you know too much about something illegal, they're not gonna just back off even if their boss is locked up. You usually have to kill them to keep yourself safe."

"That's— Okay, never say that to Matt. He would never approve, and quite frankly I'm extremely concerned about what would make a fifteen year old say something like that so easily," that didn't surprise me. "And— and no. That's not the point of me bringing it up, I just wanted to ask if you'd be okay giving me a few tips as far as self defense, so that I might have a bit more of a fighting chance if someone tries to catch me off guard again."

Yeah, maybe she shouldn't try to lie to someone who was trained in lying. But I let it drop, Matt probably wouldn't like it if I traumatized his friend with talk about death and killing. I was trying to leave that behind me anyway, so the sooner we changed the subject the better for the both of us.

Apparently Karen misinterpreted my silence, and decided to continue rambling.

"Well, I would ask Matt but he's a bit… intense, you know? And I ignored him for a solid week after I found out about the whole daredevil thing, so it's kind of unfair for me to ask him to do something like that when—"

"You honestly think I'd be any less intense?" I interrupted, brows furrowed. "And I know a few self defense tricks, but most of my training was more of the overpower-and-kill-ASAP kind, and not the disarm-and-run kind. But I guess a fight-for-your-life angle wouldn't be completely out of the ballpark for you to try out," I tilted my head and thought over all the different types of fighting I had been force fed. Most would require more time and effort to teach her in a normal fashion than what she would probably be willing to take.

"I'd be up for learning whatever tricks you can teach," she eagerly spoke up. "I don't need to be a prize fighter or anything, but I'll take anything I can get that might help me out of a tough situation."

"That seems easy enough," I agreed with a shrug. Her following clap, though not particularly loud, startled me.

"Great! Now, we've spent enough time in this musty office. Let's go out on that girl's day."

"... do we have to?"

—*—*—*—*—*

"You bought tea?" Matt asked the following morning, when he opened up the cabinets to find unopened packages he hadn't bother to decipher the muted smell of yet. It was really good quality stuff too, loose-leaf and whole herbs.

"I would prefer to make my own blends, but those smelled really good and I wanted to try them out," Hebi explained as she walked over to take her usual morning seat at the counter. She opened her mouth to take in the scent of each of the three bags Matt had discovered. "I got a teapot too. With my performance money, of course. Can I try the one with lavender today?"

Matt chuckled, glad to have one pretty normal thing about Hebi to add to his surprisingly short list of knowledge about her. She really liked tea. He had assumed from the way that she always seemed to smell vaguely like some type of it or another, but the confirmation was nice. He handed her the bag that held the tea she had asked for, putting the other two away.

He hated to admit it, but it was oddly nice having a normal interaction like that with somebody he knew was currently blind just like him. It was like Hebi had said the day before, it just gave him an odd sense of belonging that he couldn't shake no matter how bad he felt for it. It had been the same way back with Stick, which he had originally blamed on his young age and the fact that he had still been adjusting to his situation. But there he was as a full grown adult and feeling that same thing all over again, this time with somebody that was obviously not a gigantic asshole like Stick.

At least, not from what he had observed so far.

"You make your own tea blends often?" He decided to ask, popping toast in the toaster and setting eggs to fry on the stove.

"I try. Usually by picking from rooftop gardens or forking over a dollar for a cheap box of tea or two at the dollar store. When I first escaped, I was always so… scared of everything. Scared that they'd drag me back," Matt listened even as he felt Hebi take down the teapot she had bought the day before and fill it with water. They just shared the kitchen for a moment in silence, Matt scooting over when Hebi needed space to set her teapot over a burner to start heating up.

"But my mom, on some of her better days she'd make chamomile tea in the mornings. Or mint tea loaded with sugar whenever she felt a sore throat coming on," Matt sensed Hebi shrug as she pulled out a measuring spoon and measured out a serving of the tea into what he guessed was a reusable tea bag. "So, one day I was just walking by a cafe and the old lady that ran it decided I could use some old fashioned tea to improve my health," it wasn't hard for the redhead to hear the nostalgic grin in Hebi's voice. "It calmed me down. After that, I just started drinking at least a cup a day to get my nerves under control. It's better than alcohol, anyway," her voice grew bitter at the end of that sentence, but Matt ignored it. Part of the information she had mumbled to him during that day at the CPS office was about her mother having died from alcohol poisoning. She had drank herself to death. "It just became a habit after a few weeks, and now I love making my own blends and trying new flavors. It's fun."

"Well, it sounds better than soda at least. Do you have an extra tea bag? It did smell pretty good."

If Matt could sense the way Hebi's face was lifted up into a wide smile, he didn't comment on it.

They really only got to have quiet time like this in the mornings before Matt had to go to work. Even after work he usually didn't spend up time checking up on Hebi before heading out as Daredevil. They had dinner together, but that wasn't really the same. Matt figured she needed her space, but it was probably about time he figured out what she liked to do. It was almost summer so she couldn't go back to school right away, meaning it would be best if she had something to do during the day when he couldn't be there to keep her company.

And, as he had just realized, he didn't know all that much about her.

"So," Matt decided to speak up after they had their tea and their eggs with toast on plates and ready to eat. "Let's talk about more normal stuff like that. Let's forget about assassins and thugs with guns and Daredevil for now. For example, what do you wanna do when you finish school?"

Hebi almost seemed to deflate, which was not the reaction Matt had wanted or expected. "I don't know. I don't exactly have the best college resume right now, Matt," he could sense her reaching for her mug of tea, cradling it in her hands as in siphoning comfort from it. "I mean, what _can_ I do? I guess opening up a cafe or a bakery would be nice, but it just," she sighed and sipped from her mug. "It's probably all I can hope for though."

"I don't think that's what I asked," Matt said firmly but gently, frowning in her direction despite knowing she couldn't see it just then. "Don't worry about your record right now, you're still young. You can fix that. But let's start smaller then; what's your favorite subject?"

"Biology," Hebi instantly answered. "Botany is cool too. I'd probably try to become an herbalist so I can make and sell teas, but just as a hobby you know? But biology, zoology? That's so interesting to me. Chemistry," Matt couldn't help but feel relieved at how light and happy her voice sounded. "And obviously I'm a good example of the fact that animal DNA can be compatible with that of humans. Maybe even that Spiderman guy that stays around Queens. That scientist who went crazy not that long ago, Doctor Connors? I kinda like the idea he had, though obviously he took it way too far. Animals have so many different adaptations to survive, if science can harness a few of those to temporarily transfer to humans— the impact it could have!" Hebi seemed to have entirely forgotten about her breakfast, a bit of her tea spilling onto her hand when she started waving them in excitement. She hissed at the heat on her skin, setting down her mug and grabbing a napkin.

"So you're a secret science nerd," Matt summed up, grinning. He had managed to finish pretty much all of his food while he had been talking, but he didn't mind. It felt like he was slowly gathering enough information to fill in the outline of the person that was Hebi Teal. "You know, going into biochemistry or something like that is a pretty good dream."

Hebi's head raised in his direction, and she took her first bite of her food.

"You think so?" Her voice was almost painfully vulnerable when she spoke after swallowing. Matt nodded.

"Yeah. And depending on how you do on your placement tests we can see about getting you into a school with a good science program. I can't really afford anything private, but there are plenty of public schools we can look at. It doesn't matter if it's a little far, we can figure out transportation. Maybe Karen can drive you in the mornings if we need her to."

Matt had a feeling that Hebi's eyes would be heavy on his face if she had been able to see him right then.

"I'd like that."

—*—*—*—*—*

The guardianship hearing went smoothly. CPS really just wanted Hebi out of the system, and the investigator had had nothing negative to report besides the fact that Matt only had a couch for Hebi to sleep on. Considering her previous accommodations though, it wasn't hard for her and Matt to argue that it was a definite step up. After all, the court knew from experience that Hebi would run from even the more lavish foster homes they tried to chuck her in— if she was willing to stay on the couch of a one-bedroom apartment then fine with them.

The truancy court a couple weeks later and following tests went even better. As Matt had suspected, homelessness was something that could be excused and remedied. And Hebi's scores had come back even better than expected.

Apparently, Hebi had informed Matt that night, she liked to read scientific journals and work on her math in the library whenever she could go. She was not only exactly where she needed to be for her age, but she was even slightly advanced. Not enough to bring up the question of grade-skipping, but definitely enough to make a difference. Matt had Foggy help him go over the websites and pamphlets for several science-oriented public schools the day after the results were given back to them.

So, a month and a half into Matt and Hebi knowing each other and everything seemed fine. Matt was going to have Hebi have the final choice of schools she wanted to apply to (the better ones all had tests required for entry), and the gunmen hadn't been seen again. Hebi would go to the library while Matt was working, they'd occasionally visit the gym together on sundays when Matt wasn't making his own visit to the church. Hebi would occasionally wake up at three or four in the morning to patch up and scold Matt. It worked. It was nice.

Obviously it wouldn't last.

— ***—*—*—*—***

**These three chapters have all ended up almost the same length— like, less than a hundred word difference— and it is kind of spooking me. Not purposeful at all, I just get to a point where I think is a good ending and check the word count and, yeah, almost the same number has greeted me each time for these three chapters.**

**Please review! I appreciate constructive criticism, no matter how self indulgent this is. Plus I just wanna know if anybody even likes this :/ I might just be impatient though because this story has only even been up for three days (yes, I wrote a chapter a day. I upload every chapter the same day I finish their first draft, which is why there are mistakes) so I guess not that many people have even found this and read it yet, but I can dream. Anyway, thanks for reading!**

**See you next chapter~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Trigger warning. Once things start heating up, tread with caution if you get triggered easily, especially by self-hate related topics.**

—*—*—*—*—*

Figuring out what to do to try and make my burden on Matt's wallet a bit easier was not all that difficult. After all, performing in the streets was actually acceptable once summer break rolled around, and even the extra fifty-odd dollars every couple of days (give or take, depending on good or bad days) helped a lot. In fact, it helped enough for me to squirrel some away for myself.

"Are you just going to start filling the house with herbs?" Matt asked as he walked in on a particularly big spending spree of mine. Tubs of different herbs were laid out on the counter as I carefully started organizing them into the cabinet space.

Upon hearing his voice I instantly froze, my fingertips just barely touching the edge of the latest airtight container I had been stacking in a cabinet.

"Uh, I made sure to get the super airtight tubs so that the smell won't bother you too much," was the first thing I could say. Sure, we had successfully lived together for over a month. That didn't mean I I wasn't still afraid that I'd wake up one day and my novelty would be worn out, resulting in my blind savior kicking me out and leaving me to the dogs.

Okay, logically I knew by then that Matt was way too illogically nice of a person to actually do that. But irrational fears were irrational for a reason.

Matt's chuckle instantly had me relaxing.

"Calm down, I'm not upset about it. You're the only person who can make me tea without making me secretly disgusted at tasting the soap that was on your hands or the metal of the teapot," Matt's calm voice was becoming more and more of a crutch for me. Usually all I had was my tea to calm me down in the throes of the embarrassingly frequent panic attacks I had, but lately I had found that Matt's gentle assurances tended to tap out those attacks before they could truly take off. Not all of them of course, but I had been able to keep the worse ones at bay until he was too far away to tune into them.

"I was thinking about finally selling tea blends online," I admitted, continuing to stack the containers up.

"You're fifteen," Matt reminded me, one eyebrow raised. It was around our usual dinner time, so he loosened his tie as he made his way to his bedroom to get a more comfortable shirt on for the hour or so that he'd hang out with me before heading out as Daredevil.

"Yeah, but if I do it through Etsy or something then it is totally fine," I squinted down at my container of rose hips, wondering if I should short them under 'r' or 'h', and flicked my eyes over to the containers of rose petals and buds with similar mental debates. "I might wait a couple weeks though, so I can afford containers and shipping stuff."

"You know, you don't have to worry about money. That's my job," Matt said when he came out of his room in a plain blue t-shirt and his work slacks that he hadn't bothered to change out of. "You don't even have to go out busking every day like you insist on—"

"I might try Central Park next week. Maybe switching it up to hip hop will get better tips from the tourists," The competition didn't really bother me, because I could always attract a good crowd if I pushed my abilities a bit without actually doing anything inhuman. Matt just sighed, shaking his head.

"Just be careful. Those guys are still out there and having you going out to Central Park and Times Square to purposely gather a crowd makes me paranoid. Where do you wanna go for dinner?"

The last of my herbs put away, I turned and ran a hand through my short hair. It was getting a bit long, I liked keeping it in an asymmetrical pixie because it looked good with my jet black hair and kept it from easily being caught and used as a hold by anyone I might have had to fight.

"They won't attack me in broad daylight," I knew how light of an argument that was though, and continued; "besides, I'm good at running. I can drag them into an alleyway and beat 'em up before making my escape. The good old 'lure and pick off' tactic always works wonders."

"We've been over this, Hebi," Matt said, just as he always did when that conversation came up. "Just because you _can_ doesn't mean you should have to. You're fifteen, you should enjoy the last few years of childhood you have instead of wondering if you're gonna have to fight for your life today or not."

But Matt just didn't _understand._ I'd never been fifteen, not really, not where it counted. And I understood what he meant, but I couldn't just go back to being a normal teenager— there was nothing there to go _back_ to. I had never gotten the chance to be a normal teenager, I wouldn't know where to start.

"That Thai place you took us a couple weeks ago sounds good," I decided to hedge, knowing we could argue for hours about the subject if we let it go on that long without a topic change. I saw Matt run a hand through his own hair in frustration, but he let the topic go like he always did when I decided to hedge around something. He grabbed his keys and led the way to the door.

"Okay, then let's go."

—*—*—*—*—*

In hindsight, Matt should have seen it coming. That man was always either present during or the cause of something horribly going wrong whenever he showed up. Dinner with Hebi, while slightly tense, went by as uneventful as it usually did. But when Hebi paused at the entrance to their building, Matt knew something was wrong. It only took a small sniff and an adjustment to how much he was tuning in around them to realize what that was.

"Someone's in our apartment," Hebi whispered, which Matt could only nod to.

"He can hear you. Stay behind me, try not to say anything, and don't let anything he says provoke you."

"Who is he?" Hebi wondered, falling obediently behind Matt as they made their way inside. Matt felt his lips turn down.

"Probably the biggest asshole I've ever met. And I fought Wilson Fisk."

Hebi didn't shiver like most people would have at an implication like that, but she was definitely not pleased in the tensing of her muscles was anything to go by. Then again, she might have just been tuning into the way his own were unpleasantly tensed.

The moment they walked in, the intruder decided to speak up.

"What is this pansy crap? It smells like a damn garden in here," was what they were greeted with as they made their way deeper into the darkened apartment. "You have piss-poor choice in students, by the way."

"Why the hell are you here, Stick?" Matt bit out, hands curling into fists and uncurling again by his sides, over and over again. The old man closed the cabinet he had been looking through, which happened to be the one that held all of Hebi's new herbs. "And Hebi isn't my student. She's my ward."

"Then you're even dumber than I already knew you were," the harsh comeback was instant. "I was coming down here to ask for help with something, but the moment I smelled her all over that gym of yours I changed my mind. Finished my job early so I could come here and tell you to get rid of her before your soft heart gets you killed."

"Hebi is not going to kill me, Stick—"

"Do you even know what Hebi means, idiot? It's Japanese for _snake._ It's exactly what she is," the old man stepped closer to them, glaring sightlessly in Matt's direction. "Her father chose her mom on purpose, he wanted a kid to be raised as the perfect weapon. Waited 'till the woman finally killed herself so he could take the child and make a weapon," Matt could hear Hebi's breath catch, and a familiar emotion flared to life in him. It burned him, inside out. The Devil in him wanting to come out and beat the life out of anyone who hurt Hebi. But Stick didn't stop.

" _That's_ what she is. She's more animal than human now, and you know why? She can do what you _never could,"_ Stick got within strike range, and it took Matt everything he had to not let this shitshow devolve into a fist fight. Hebi didn't need to see more violence. "She can detach herself. Kill her father without a blink, kill the scientists that had tricked her into getting close to them. She only cares about herself, if you think for one second she'll care if you die protecting her because you are still in that little fantasy world where you think you're some hero? You'll just end up watching her back as she abandons you, or as she slides the blade across your neck herself."

Hebi was hyperventilating by then, which was the only tether keeping Matt from trying to break Stick's nose.

"Stop talking, Stick," Matt growled, fists no longer uncurling from fists.

"That church you go to has taught you about demons, right? I thought you'd know better than to let one in your house."

That was the last thing Matt could take, the familiar rage in him boiling over as he stepped forward and swung at his old mentor. The man raised his staff to block the blow, easily swinging to the side and landing a rough smack with the weapon against Matt's ribs. The lawyer barely had time to register Stick's sudden movement before the old man was sliding the staff open to reveal the katana it really was.

"STICK!" Matt's bellow startled Hebi out of the frozen state she had been rendered into, her eyes having been stuck on the metal of the weapon swinging towards her. But his voice seemed to have made Hebi wake up from her fear-induced stillness just in time for the girl to dodge the blow. The blade stuck in the floor long enough to Matt to engage Stick again, keeping the geezer's focus off of Matt's ward.

The primal thud of wood against flesh and flesh against flesh echoed in the apartment as Matt drive himself as hard as he could to keep Stick away from the teenager. A particularly hard kick to the chest sent Matt flying back into his bedroom door, where his gasp of pain alerted him to something new—

He could smell fresh air entering the room from the window.

The window was open.

_Hebi. Where was Hebi?_

"Took you long enough to notice," Stick's gravelly voice drifted over as Matt pulled himself up. "She took off about a minute ago. Which is good, because it'll be easier to kill her when she's tired from running."

"You're not going to kill her. You aren't even going to go anywhere _near_ her, do you understand me?" Matt stalked towards the old man as he grit each word out in his Daredevil voice, panic mixing with fury to the point that his head was almost overwhelmed. A sensory overload would have been easier on his heart. He didn't even realize he was already on the border of one, everything filtering in in a sharp panic-induced clarity he normally wouldn't have allowed. But Hebi was gone, Hebi was gone and she had people after her and Matt needed to find her before she got herself killed.

Stick was not intimidated, he just stood with his usual calm and scoffed. "Go change into your pajamas, boy. We'll just have to see who can reach her first."

"I _told you_ , you are not going to—"

"You can say whatever you want Matty, but it won't change the fact that she's just your tombstone waiting to be carved. Snakes are opportunists, and she's no different. You offer her food, shelter, safety, she's going to take it. But the second there's trouble, the second something goes wrong, and there will be her hands around your throat and you won't be able to get them off."

Matt took a breath, trying to cool his anger down. Getting worked up wouldn't help the situation, and Hebi was only getting farther away the longer he waited.

So he didn't. He ran into his room and changed as quickly into his costume as he physically could.

—*—*—*—*—*

Hebi panted, the scent of blood thick on her tongue. She hadn't wanted to fight, she hadn't. She just wanted to get out of Matt's apartment, to _run. Run from there as fast and far as she could._ It wasn't safe for her to stay near Matt. It wasn't safe.

But gunmen had started trickling out of alleyways the farther she got, and it had gotten so hard for her to fight the increasing numbers that she did what she had sworn she wouldn't do.

The blood was thick in the air as she stared at the waist of the man below her, whose torso was unnaturally wrinkled inwards, bulletproof vest and all. Blood trickled from his mouth.

The man would not be getting up. Not with his torso mimicking a crushed soda can.

Five more alive but knocked out bodies littered alleyways behind Hebi, marking her path like the breadcrumbs in a very morbid version of Hansel and Gretel.

The girl's head swung up, her heat pits supplying her with a mental image of five more walls of human heat heading her way. Not about to double back and end up running into Matt, who she was positive was going to come after her, she found she had no way to dodge them. Two came by the rooftops, three more down all of the separate alleyways immediately available for her to take.

Normally she would run down one path and try to engage the men one at a time, like she had been trained, but her panic overrode her teachings. She wasn't even completely lucid, the slit pupils in her eyes advertising to anyone that could see that a human was not currently in charge of her body.

When the men rounded their respective corners, Hebi was crouched behind a dumpster with her teeth bared and muscled tensed incase they could find her. But their goggles must have been heat vision, because they instantly circled towards her hiding spot.

The first man, not cautious enough, was met with too-fluid limbs instantly twisted around him like fleshy ropes. Inhumanly dense muscle constricted all at once, sending the sound of snapping bones echoing across the brick walls surrounding them. The neck, upper chest, and waist of the man were half as thick as they should have been when Hebi's body slid off of him, crumpled inwards like cheap aluminum. Gunshots rang out, bouncing off brick and concrete and the metal dumpster walls as Hebi darted and crawled from spot to spot, trying to find someplace the men couldn't reach without any luck.

A lucky bullet struck her right below her left rib cage, making a feral hiss erupt from her throat. She landed on the nasty concrete ground in a writhing mass of pained flesh, blood pooling under her as she tried to curl up as tightly as she could, her human mind only further receding into the depths of her brain with the new agony tearing through her.

The dusty darkness of Hell's Kitchen finished gulping Hebi up as one of the four remaining men slid something out of his pocket and jabbed it into the prone girl's back, right along her exposed spine.

When Matt reached the scene ten minutes later, it was as if the pool of Hebi's blood was all he could smell. He could hear his heart speeding in his best far faster than what could have possibly been healthy, but the smell of her blood muffled it. He could sense the unnatural markings on the dead bodies that could not have possibly be done by normal human hands, he could dimly connect that only Hebi could have possibly caused it since her scent coated both bodies over each crumpled area. But her blood filling every hypersensitive scent receptor in his nose seemed to make those discoveries unimportant, made him _ache_ with failure and panic and something tight in his chest that he couldn't identify through the fog that _her blood, her blood, her blood_ erected in his head.

"She's not dead yet," the last voice Matt wanted to hear made Matt's head slowly raise towards Stick's position casually sitting on the lip of one building bordering the alley. "And you're not gonna break her out of where they took her on your own."

A snarl ripped itself from Matt's throat. He didn't even notice how his teeth were bared like a wolf, not able to deal with Stick's shit in his current state.

"So, what, you just decide to go from wanting to kill her to offering me help to rescue her? What the hell do you want, Stick? This doesn't fucking concern you!"

"Sure it does. She's even more dangerous in the hands of those men than she is on her own. I wanted to kill her before they got to her, but obviously that didn't happen."

"Hebi's stronger than that," Matt argued, fists shaking by his sides with how tightly he was clenching them shut. Stick's scoff didn't help.

"You've known her for, what? A month?" The geezer slid from his perch, landing on the ground with a blind glare of contempt towards Matt. "I bet there's a _world_ of time to get to know her when you work all day and play hero all night, isn't there?"

And there, guilt was added to the stew of painful emotions brewing inside Matt's chest. Stick, as much as it pissed him off, actually had a point. Matt only interacted with Hebi or maybe an hour or hour and a half total every day, maybe longer on Sundays if they went to the gym to train together. But he still hadn't pushed her for any information—they just coexisted most of the time. Friendly conversations about nothing, never talking about anything of any real weight. Matt's only knowledge of her past was whatever she mumbled about her mom and the very bare-minimum story about her assassin training that she had mentioned once and never tried to elaborate on. He knew she liked tea and that she liked science, but he had no idea what her favorite color was or her favorite foods. He had no idea what it was like to go blind periodically, the kind of fear she must feel wondering if her shed cycle would come early or late. He didn't know about the hopelessness of knowing that she would open her eyes and have to live with the darkness Matt was all too familiar with every month like unavoidable clockwork.

How could he have just ignored the fact that she was clearly not mentally stable? Nobody who had to go through even the small bit that Matt knew about could walk away without issues. But Matt hadn't done anything to help, content with their comfortable talk of normal things and the fact that she didn't seem bothered about his Daredevil life like his friends were.

And yeah, if he was able to save her then the first thing he was going to do was try his hardest to change the way they had been living. Hebi needed help, not just someone to protect her physically or financially. She didn't need a distant friend. As much as it terrified the shit out of him, Matt realized right then that Hebi needed a parental figure. She needed someone who would listen to her baggage and maybe even meet it equally. She needed Matthew Murdock just as much as she needed Daredevil.

"Well, if you think she's so weak," Matt's voice was lower and calmer after making those silent decisions. "Then let's track her down before she breaks. And maybe, if we're lucky, I'll get to see her prove you wrong for a change."

Stick just snorted, disbelieving, but took off right next to Matt as they tracked Hebi's scent trail.

It took longer than Matt would have liked, but the men had obviously used a van to transport her so the two men on her feet would obviously fall behind in terms of speed. Every minute grated on his nerves like cheap cotton, but all he could do was continue to travel over the rooftops with one of his least favorite people slightly behind him.

"You don't even know what they did to her, do you?" The previously mentioned asshole spoke up. Matt clenched his jaw, desperately wanting the other man to shut up because he was _not_ in the mood for any kind of conversation let alone one that involved Stick of all people.

"I was giving her her space. She'll tell me when she wants to."

Stick scoffed for the third time in the past hour. "You'll be waiting forever if you stick with that. You know there are a couple groups taking in individuals and trying to forcibly get them to mutate? Guys torture people for hours after injecting them with a chemical meant to awaken any hidden X-gene in their DNA after extreme stress so that they can sell the awakened subjects as super-slaves."

Matt felt the previously fought-down panic rise again, his chest tightening. If his pace picked up l, Stick didn't mention it.

"Is that what was done to her?" Matt couldn't help but ask. He'd apologize to Hebi for the prying once he got her back home safely.

"Close. This group are basically copycats, trying to be innovative. Same basic idea, different tactics. They take kids with no family and a mixture of that chemical, animal genes stolen from Oscorp, and radiation to see if they can engineer more specific powers out of the kids. Not much less painful than the other method, and apparently the success rate is abysmal. That brat you decided to take pity on is the only success from this group that I've been able to find."

Matt had to force himself to swallow. "The other kids?"

"What do you think? Dead."

Yeah, Matt had suspected as much. Hebi hadn't been lying about having enough baggage to make the airport jealous, how many of those kids had she befriended before they died? How closed off had she had to become to stave off the pain? And, if Stick's speech from earlier could be trusted (which it usually could, no matter how much Matt Hayes to admit it), then she had been subjected to all of that by her father and strangers pretending to be friends.

And she and Matt's relationship had escalated from strangers to guardian and ward pretty damn quickly. How had she been able to trust him so quickly?

Maybe she didn't.

And that thought hurt almost as much as smelling a puddle of her blood in the middle of an alleyway surrounded by bullet holes and beat up mercenaries.

Two painful hours later, both mentally and physically, Matt was able to sense the building where Hebi's scent trail led.

But apparently the mental stress wasn't at an end, because he could tell she had apparently just woken up.

Her scream echoed, filled with tortured despair and frustration. Like someone who woke up to find that their reality was only a dream, and their nightmare had never ended.

The building was, perhaps stereotypically, a warehouse out in a part of town that was only regularly visited at night by men who wouldn't bat an eye at the torture likely going on behind those bars. Who did things likely similar to it themselves.

Matt was suddenly glad his outfit was much more durable than his black protype from before Fisk's takedown, otherwise his nails would have torn into the skin around his knees and added his blood into the maze of scents to sort through. Stick wasn't nearly as concerned, casually leaning several feet away. They had both been running nonstop for longer than even they could go without a rest. As much as Matt hated it, they had to catch their breaths before starting their fight.

The relief Matt felt at Hebi finally being back in range was overshadowed by the despair and horror he felt as he was forced to listen to her voice from inside the warehouse.

"FUCK OFF!" Her voice screeched inside those walls, more desperate and hysterical than he had ever heard from her. He could hear her voice starting to get strained from the amount of screaming she was torturing her throat with. "LET ME GO! BACK OFF! GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY!" Metal clinking rapidly made its way to Matt's ears, along with the vague shape of metal restraints around the smear of heat that he registered as being Hebi.

They had her chained like an animal.

Her panicked heartbeat drilled ice through Matt's chest, and he couldn't wait any longer. Despite Stick's insults following behind him, he jumped down and burst in the building without care. He didn't have time to be careful, _his kid needed him!_

Matt slammed his fist straight into the nose of the first unlucky asshole he came across, grabbing his back collar to slam his body with as much force as possible into the next idiot to get in his way. Blood sprayed into the air, Daredevil no longer able to hold back his rage as he broke noses and arms and slammed heads into metal doors. Because that's who he was now— the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Matthew Murdock was consumed for the moment.

At one point a scientist tried to stab his with a scalpel. When the object only lodged in Daredevil's reinforced suit without actually hitting skin, the vigilante grabbed the man by the neck and threw him into the wall. After getting rid of the scalpel he realized that the man he had just thrown could have been one of the men to torture, to _experiment_ on Hebi. And that was enough to justify the man punching the scientist until both of his eyes were swollen shut, his lip busted in several places and his nose crooked. Only Hebi's continued whimpers and pleas to be released got him off that guy and back to tracking her scent to the room of portable walls it was hidden behind.

Patience nonexistent, Daredevil kicked the wall down after sending that it wouldn't land on his kid if he did so. Ignoring the men that where squished under the thin slab, he walked over it to the metal table that Hebi was strapped to with thick metal slabs and chains.

Feeling it so closely was even worse than it had been before.

"Why? Why? Why?" Hebi's cries made their way out of a sore throat, coming out more as croaks than anything else. Delivering a ruthless punch right into the throat of the scientist by her side, he made sure nobody else was coming before turning to Hebi.

"Shh. Hebi, it's me. It's Matt, calm down. I'm gonna get you home," he did his best to sound non threatening and kept his voice as soft as he could, but the anger he hadn't quite gotten it of his system still kept a rumble in his voice that seemed to do nothing for the teenager's nerves.

"Why? Why? Why?" She continued to squeak, and Matt could smell the salty trails her tears tracked down her face. The heat around her face suggested that it was heavily flushed with a mixture of her crying, panic, and the effort it had taken for her to scream her throat sore.

Matt continued to try to get to her, but she didn't even open her eyes. She just continued to mutter the word why over and over again in such a tortured voice that Matt thought his teeth would crack with the force he was clenching his jaw shut with. Even worse, it seemed to get progressively more resigned with each _why_ that forced itself from her mouth.

"Oh don't worry, you can let your guard down. I got all the assassins who were planning on resuming her training that you didn't take into account before you stormed in like an idiot."

"Not now, Stick," Matt growled, shoving the keys he had managed to find off one of the scientists he had knocked out into the locks on Hebi's restraints. Once they all popped open, Matt wasted no time gently scooping the girl into his arms. She balled up into a tighter knot than he would have previously thought possible, reminding him of a terrified ball python. Her muttering had changed, but was no less heart breaking.

"No, no, no, please. Don't take me back. No. Kill me, kill me, kill me."

Matt's grip on her tightened as he took a painful breath through his nose in shock at her words.

"Guess you were right, Matty. She proved me wrong," Stick's irritating voice chimed in. "She's just as dumb as you are."

Matt wouldn't know exactly what he meant until he got back to his apartment with Hebi.

—*—*—*—*—*

Every breath felt like an icicle ramming itself down my throat. It was so cold, but I didn't want to lean into the warmth that was carrying me either. It was so comfortable, so tempting, but I couldn't lean into it. Cold was good. I deserved cold. Warmth was more dangerous.

"We're here," that voice was no longer dark and gravelly like it had been before. It was soft and calming again, the same voice that always made my muscles relax.

But it just made me tense up further.

Carefully, Matt removed one arm from where it was supporting the coil I was wound into in order to open the window to his apartment. For a terrifying moment I was pressed tightly against his chest as he tried to balance my weight with one arm as he did the simple action, and it took everything I had not to relax into it. Once it was open he went back to holding me with both arms, stepping inside while cradling me as if he was afraid I was going to shatter if he dropped or bumped me.

"I'm going to set you down on the couch okay? And then I'm going to close the window. You're okay. Stick left. That bastard isn't anywhere near here anymore, you're okay. You're safe."

Sure enough, I felt my altitude change and be replaced with leather as I was placed down onto his sofa. I lifted my head from the center of my coil, opening my mouth to track him by his body heat as he walked softly to close the window just like he said. My eyes absorbed whatever UV they could and were just able to pick up on Matt taking his Daredevil mask off after turning back away from the window. Slowly, I unwound myself from my tight knot and settled for shrinking as deep as I could into the corner of the couch while hugging my knees to my chest. I tracked him by sight and heat as he circled back around the sofa and knelt down on the ground in front of me.

"Hey," he whispered softly, careful to keep his voice just loud enough for me to hear. He didn't have his glasses on, which allowed me my first unobstructed view of his eyes. I found myself staring into their vacant depths, into the slightly bluish hue of the hazy white orbs and the way they rested slightly too far right to actually be on my face. "Come on, Hebi. I need you to say something."

I closed my mouth and my eyes, slipping backwards so my face sunk behind my knees. I heard Matt sigh, and felt the vibrations of his feet even through the couch as he walked to the kitchen. It was easier than it normally would have been, with the rest of the building barely rustling and no other vibrations to muffle his. My concept of time was clearly completely shot even after only a couple hours of Hell, because it seemed like both a few seconds and a few eternities before Matt came back to me with a cup of tea in one hand. He pulled the coffee table over so part of it was pushed up right against the couch in front of me and set the tea down as closely as he could get to me on top of it.

I reluctantly opened my mouth, tasting the air. Peppermint— he must have been listening when I told him about my favorite teas for any bad days I had. A few flakes of my tension peeled away, just enough for me to slowly sit up and grab the cup. I just cradled it in my palms, letting the scalding liquid irritate my skin through the cup. The heat was grounding.

"Hebi," Matt tried speaking to me softly again. "You still have a bullet in your side. I'm going to call a friend, so you need to straighten out or you'll make the wound even worse. She'll help me get the bullet out and stitch you up, but you need to stay conscious."

"I'm not bleeding, am I?" I heard my own scratchy, dead voice offer up. There was a pause before he answered.

"A little bit, but we can clean that up later. It looks like most of it stopped."

I didn't bother nodding, raising the cup to my lips and taking a sip. Maybe if I didn't wait for the tea to cool I could burn off some of my scent receptors and get rid of the scent of blood that seemed to cling desperately to my tongue. Matt stepped away, taking out his phone to make the call. Before I really knew it, my cup was empty of tea and a woman I didn't know was gently stretching me out so she could see the bullet wound. She must not have thought I was lucid, because her gaze wasn't on my face and she started talking to Matt.

"Shit. This is nasty, and she's just a kid! What the hell have you gotten into this time, Matt? Start disinfecting the tweezers, I'll inject the pain meds."

I twitched when the woman reached for my arm, yanking it away before she could touch me.

"No needles," I hissed, hating how my own voice felt like glass shards against the inside of my throat. Her calm eyes moved up to meet mine firmly, leaving no room for argument in her gaze.

"You need this, kid. Trust me when I say you don't want to feel me digging into you to get that bullet out. I'll make it as quick as I can, okay?"

I grit my jaw, raising my hand to her chest. She stiffened, but didn't move away.

"Hebi," Matt's slightly disapproving voice met my ears, but it was followed by a sigh. "Just let her do this Claire, maybe it will calm her down."

Before the woman—Claire, apparently— could ask what he meant, I spoke up again.

"You're not gonna hurt me, right? There's nothing bad in that syringe?"

"Of course not!" Claire denied indignantly, her heart slightly picking up in annoyance.

"Stay calm Claire, you'll confuse her in her current state if you get worked up," Matt warned. The woman took a breath, then lowered her head from where she had raised it to look at Matt in order to meet my gaze again.

"No, I'm not going to hurt you, kid. There are only painkillers in the syringe. Once they kick in I'm gonna use the tweezers Matt's disinfecting to take the bullet out and stitch you up. Okay?"

Steady beating. I lowered my arm with a sigh, nodding finally in consent. I closed my eyes, doing my best to ignore as her fingertips prodded the inside of my elbow before finding a suitable spot and swiftly piercing a vein with the needle of the syringe. Slowly, I felt the throbbing pain I had pushed to the back of my head fade away.

"Keep your metabolism at full speed, Hebs," Matt murmured, suddenly close to my ear. He must have been leaning over the back of the couch to do that. I also didn't recognize that nickname, it was sudden but nice.

Full speed. That was only five percent faster than the average human, but I guess Matt thought it would make a difference. I flicked the mental switch before letting my eyes slide closed as I entered a sort of half-sleep. Maybe I'd get lucky and the medicine would wear off fast enough for me to feel the last stitch or two.

I deserved far worse, but I'd take what was given.

When my full awareness came back, I was laying down with my head on Matt's lap. Claire's scent was slightly stale in the air— she had been gone for about half an hour.

It took a moment before it registered, but when it did I flung myself off of him and onto the opposite side of the couch, where I huddled with my knees to my chest despite the shocks of pain it sent through my side.

"Hey! Hey, calm down or you'll rip your stitches!"

My breaths, which were coming in gasps, slowly slowed down as I got a handle on myself. I didn't lower my legs much though, just enough to stop stressing out the new patchwork on my bulletwound. Matt held his hands out to me, as if welcoming me in for a hug.

"Come on Hebi, you need rest and you're colder than you should be. Lay down again."

"No," I whispered, shaking my head firmly. Matt frowned.

"Come on Hebi," I shook my head again. "Hebs? Why won't you come closer to me?" I felt the vibration of his heart through the sofa cushions briefly stutter. "Is it— how much of the fight back there did you see?" The vulnerability in his voice hurt, but it was misplaced. I shook my head again, gritting my teeth.

"N-no. Didn't you see? Those— those men in the alley.."

Realization seemed to dawn on his face, his eyebrows coming out of their concerned furrow slightly.

"The ones that… I didn't exactly _see_ them, but yes."

His attempt at lightening the mood flew over my head.

"Then you know," I took a slow breath, trying not to strain my wound. I felt so broken. "You know what… what I can do to a human."

"You're a human, too," Matt gently tried to remind me, turning so he was facing me better.

"I'll hurt you," I whispered back, ignoring him. "I— I can't hug you, because I'll crush your spine. A-and I can't stay close to you, because I'll curl around you in my sleep and suffocate you, and I'll—"

"You shook Karen's hand without breaking anything back when you met her," Matt persisted, making frustrated tears rise to the corner of my eyes. Why was he so _stubborn?_ Didn't he see how dangerous I was? Didn't he _understand?_

"Daredevil can't just beat up only criminals he doesn't like," I changed my angle. "I—I _killed_ them, Matt. Murder. I'm a criminal just like—"

" _No,"_ The sudden force in his voice shut me up, and the fierce glare he had on all of a sudden seemed to light his sightless eyes up from the inside. "Don't you dare compare yourselves to them. You're not vile or corrupted, you were threatened and you protected yourself. You kept yourself alive, that's not a crime."

" _Yes it is!"_ I whisper-yelled back, desperate to scream it at him but knowing I couldn't. "I shouldn't even _be_ alive! Nobody—nobody _else_ lived, and they were all better than me! Me surviving everything they did— that was a mistake. I couldn't possibly— someone like me couldn't possibly have been meant to live. I'm cold, I can just shut myself off and, and kill people close to me. I can just stab my best friend without a second thought because it's how I had to survive. I can make myself feel _nothing_ when I wrap my hands around somebody's throat. It— it didn't phase me, it didn't bother me, to feel someone's pulse stop vibrating under my fingertips," I paused to take a breath, my eyes wrenched closed because I couldn't bring myself to watch Matt's expression. "They wanted a demon," I whispered. I couldn't even hear myself anymore, but I could feel my lips moving and air leaving my sensitive throat so I knew I was still speaking.

"They wanted a demon, so they loaded me up with snake DNA. Y'know, because the Devil took the shape of a snake. Because snakes are _evil._ They wanted to make a demon, because demons scare and demons as assassins sell. They put all their effort into making a demon. And they ended up with _me."_

The silence closed in on me after that. I didn't even notice I was crying again, as if I hadn't done enough of that already. I was so far in my own head that I didn't even notice heat getting closer to me until I felt arms wrap tight around me, forcing my knees down and pressing me against a hard chest. My bullet wound protested the force of the arms, but I couldn't help but ignore it.

Because I was suddenly surrounded by Matt's warmth, by Matt's scent. And, all at once, I realized I had never felt so safe before.

I couldn't bring myself to return the hug yet, I didn't trust myself in my current mental state, but for the first time that night I let myself give in to the comfort. I leaned into him, letting my tears fall heavier as he just rested his face in my short hair and held me tightly.

"You're not a demon," he whispered into my hair after a long moment. "But you know, someone a long time ago used to say that Murdock boys all had a bit of the Devil in them. And… I can't help but believe it," he admitted and I couldn't help but listen to his soft voice, couldn't help but relish the feeling of his voice vibrating through his chest. "The guy who comes out when I'm out on the streets as Daredevil? The one who sends guys to the hospital maimed or in comas? I always blame that on my inner Devil. I know it's my fault, it's still a part of me after all, but that's how I see it," I couldn't help but bite my lip as the realization sunk in that he probably never shared that with anybody else.

The joy and warmth that I felt at that thought filled me with guilt.

"But maybe we all have one," Matt continued. "Maybe it just has a bit of a stronger hold on some of us than others. That doesn't make us demons, it just makes us human," he pulled away from me so he could look towards my face. I could tell he was trying to meet my eyes, but he was still slightly off. "Snakes aren't evil either, despite what people may think. They're animals just like any other, and having their DNA doesn't make you evil or demonic. The things you've done aren't your fault. They were all in self preservation, Hebi. The result of the horrific situation you were in. And I know that you will probably never forget any of it, but maybe we can help you heal from it a little bit," his hand lifted from my back to brush the longer half of my asymmetrical bangs behind my ear. "But we're gonna have to change up our routine a little. No more distance. If you are having a bad day, I want to hear about it. And I want you to come to the office more often so we can spend some more time together. Maybe we can make the gym a more regular thing on the weekends."

I sniffled, cursing my useless nose for only causing issues. It didn't even smell anymore, it only made snot for me to be forced to disgustingly sniff back up whenever I cried. "Okay," I whispered. "I… I think I can deal with that."

"Good," Matt nodded. He pulled himself away, but not a moment passed before he pulled me down with him. Pretty soon we were laid down next to each other on the tiny couch, which made me lay down on top of his chest in order to fit. I felt like a little kid, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to mind.

"Why did you run away?" By the time Matt asked that, I was almost asleep and my filter was nonexistent. I buried my face deeper into his chest.

"I thought Stick was gonna kill me," I admitted softly. Matt shifted underneath me.

"You know I wouldn't have let him, right?"

"That's… not it," I whispered. "I agreed with everything he said about me. I… I thought he was right. But I knew that _you_ would be the one blamed if I showed up dead in your apartment out of nowhere. So… so I wanted to get as far as I could so that nobody could pin my murder on you. But when it came down to it, I didn't plan on stopping him."

I faded away to sleep before I could hear his response.

—*—*—*—*—*

**Oh lookie at that, the rating changed from T to M! I should have expected that, because I can't keep a story from getting super dark and mature for long apparently. So, uh. Depressing chapter yeah? Whump could be my middle name. I'm trying to tone it down, but… yeah no promises.**

**See you next chapter~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About a new character introduced this chapter, more will be explained about them next chapter. I know, in the comics they aren’t in New York. But I like to ignore Canon and I moved them around for my convenience ;)

"I don't know, Foggy. You can't just get rid of years of self-discrimination overnight. You didn't hear her— she didn't even consider herself _human,"_ Matt said in his office, Foggy sat on the other side of the desk as they worked through paperwork together. He had told Hebi to stay at the apartment that day to recover from her bulletwound, promising to take her with him to work for the rest of the week afterwards in exchange. She had gotten oddly clingy, and he had learned the hard way that the other aspect of her powers she hadn't covered with him was her partial cold-bloodedness. She didn't tangle herself into a knot when they slept on the couch because she was too busy burying herself as closely to him as possible, absorbing his body heat.

"Have you considered therapy? Psychologists could be a lot of help," Karen offered up, the door between the main room and the office open so she could listen in on their conversation.

"I don't know, Karen. We'd have to tell the therapist everything about Hebi in order for that to even have a chance of working, and I don't think either of us is ready to trust a stranger like that," Matt responded with a frown. "But, I'm just worried about what her mindset might cause her to do. I mean, what if one of you happens to be with her when trouble breaks out? She wouldn't think twice about throwing herself in front of a bullet if she thought it would save you."

"Welcome to our world," Foggy said ruthlessly, looking up from his stack of papers. "Karen and I have to constantly worry about you doing the exact same thing. No sense of self preservation, and now we have _two_ of you living under the same roof? I'm one step away from a heart attack," Foggy had gotten pretty close to Hebi, the girl's dry and sarcastic wit matching with his own sense of humor beautifully. For them anyway, it annoyed the hell out of Matt and Karen. In a good way, of course. Totally.

"Actually, I think it's better to have two than one. So they can cancel each other out," Karen suggested, leaving her own desk in the waiting room to lean in their doorway. "Neither of them will let the other throw their life away if they're in the same area anyway."

"Guys," Matt interrupted when it seemed like Foggy was going to reply to Karen. "I mean it, I feel like she'll only get worse if she's stuck with someone like me. I'm not the best role model for pursuing good mental health and not making self destructive choices," Matt lifted his glasses for a moment so he could rub at his eyes in frustration.

"Matt, you're the one that said it can't be solved overnight. What Hebi needs is a steady home and a normal lifestyle," Foggy's suggestion gained a raised eyebrow and half-hearted glare from his blind friend. "Which, yeah, you're not the shining example of either of those things. But she doesn't need _complete_ normality. It might even drive her crazy, if you try to throw her into a completely average life. But you've got a pretty steady job, you're not going to give her up or anything, and she's going to be able to go to school like a normal kid in another, what, month and a half give or take? That's already pretty normal. Dealing with your nighttime criminal-punching will probably help her feel like things aren't changing too quickly."

"And you already said you planned to bond with her more," Karen spoke up again with a smile that Matt could sense from his position behind his desk. "Having a father figure like you will do wonders, just you see—"

"I would love to, Karen—"

"Don't finish that sentence, Murdock, you know what I meant," the secretary glared playfully, waving a finger at the redhead before walking back out to sort more files.

Matt could only smile, Foggy chuckling softly alongside him, at Karen's antics. But having his friends offering suggestions helped, even if he still didn't feel like they were right. There had to be something he could do. But even without the answers, just knowing his friends were backing him up with Hebi lifted the weight on his shoulders.

The lawyer's hands stilled over the sheet of Braille he had been reading. Maybe that was what Hebi needed. Friends she could trust.

"Oh boy," he muttered under his breath, causing the blond on the other side of the table to look up, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"What?"

"How is a traumatized fifteen year old mutate with trust issues going to be able to let herself make friends in high school?" The redhead asked, feeling a headache coming on. "She still doesn't tell me things that happen on a daily basis. So far she's been pretty easy to take care of, which isn't right. Teenagers have problems, they have frustrations. But she's never once asked for my help."

"You lost me," Foggy admitted.

"Friends, Foggy. She needs friends her own age, like I have you and Karen," Matt explained. "People she can talk to."

"Then she better ace her entrance exams," Foggy said with a shrug, tone casual as if the problem could just be solved that easily. "If she gets into Midtown Science, she'll find plenty of nerds to be friends with. She talked my ear off yesterday about Spider-man's webs and how she wants to steal a sample to recreate for medical purposes," Foggy's smile was easy to sense for Matt, despite the annoyance in the other guy's tone. "I think Daredevil has been bumped down to her second favorite vigilante, sorry."

Matt snorted at that, going back to running his fingertips over Braille. "Nah. At least I know she doesn't just want _me_ for my inventions."

—*—*—*—*—*

That following Saturday night, Matt spent with Hebi. He decided that Hell's kitchen could last one night without him (at least until he snuck out after Hebi fell asleep, like he was planning).

"How's your side?" The redhead asked, not smelling any new blood but knowing that Hebi wouldn't tell him about any pain she had unless he asked. It was times like those that made Matt glad he was a walking polygraph. Hebi could fool pretty much anyone with her lying, _except_ people with Matt's brand of enhanced hearing.

He felt Hebi's head raise up from where she was shoveling ice cream into her mouth, the black cherry flavored treat coating her lips. Apparently being partially cold blooded didn't stop her from gorging herself on softserve if she was allowed to. Matt heard a soft huff of air leave her nose, but it sounded more amused than anything else.

"I've had worse than one bullet in my side, Matt. It didn't even hit anything vital," and yeah, that just worried the hell out of her guardian. As if he wasn't already furious enough at the thought of what she went through at the hands of that group, now he knew they had apparently given her a worse wound than a gunshot. _A gunshot._

"What, have you had _two_ bullets in your side or something?" The lawyer replied sarcastically, one brow risen above his round glasses. "That doesn't answer my question you know."

"I'm fine. It's just burns a lot still, but I'll recover. No complex sleep-doughnuts for a while though, even I'm not crazy enough to do contortion with stitches in my abdomen," the teen took a large scoop of ice cream, scooting closer to Matt's side despite already being pressed up against it. They were watching the audio-descriptive version of The Empire Strikes Back, because Hebi was the biggest closeted nerd that Matt now knew.

The vigilante had to shake his head, a bittersweet smirk on his lips. It took a minute for his ward to notice it, and he could sense her brows furrowing when she did.

"What? What's up?"

"Nothing. It's just that you're just as stubborn as any Murdock," the buzz of lightsabers played in the background as Matt made a sound halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. "I haven't decided if that's good or bad yet."

"I'm really not," Hebi whispered, her head tilted so that Matt figured she was staring into her carton of ice cream. "But, if being stubborn like a Murdock means being able to drag myself up and keep living, then maybe I'd like to be. I certainly have the best role model in New York to learn from on that account."

"Yeah?" Matt felt his smirk turn into a soft smile. "Try not to copy me too much, though. Red isn't your color."

"Matt," Hebi's dry tone forced Matt to use all of his self control to keep a straight face. "You're blind."

"I am? Woah, I never noticed."

"Do you even know what red looks like?" Hebi tilted her head, and Matt could feel her gaze on his cheek. "I mean, I just assumed you were born blind but you never told me."

Yeah, he hadn't had he? Matt snorted at the realization, making Hebi sit up and her heart pick up slightly.

"What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, I just realized that I'm not the best role model when it comes to opening up. I didn't even realize I haven't told you that story yet," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Can we turn off the movie now? We aren't even paying attention to it anymore."

Hebi practically leapt towards the laptop, clicking out of the window they had open. Matt could feel the temperature in Hebi's cheeks flare up when she realized Matt was staring towards her trying not to laugh at her enthusiasm. The teenager cleared her throat, trying to save some of her dignity.

"Having the audio description and the subtitles on at the same time was just weird, okay?" Matt's hum apparently didn't assure Hebi, who just blushed harder. "So, I'm assuming by 'story,' that you mean you lost your sight instead of being born blind, right?"

And there went all of Matt's amusement. He wasn't upset by the story or anything, not after having plenty of years to get used to his situation, but it still wasn't a particularly happy one.

"Nah, I was a normal kid—" Hebi's scoff of disbelief made him smirk a little bit in spite of himself. "—No, really, I was. Anyway, I noticed a blind man who was crossing the street about to get hit by a truck—" Hebi was suddenly pinching her nose, which made Matt's grin widen. "Yeah yeah, the irony. Anyway, I pushed him out of the way. But when the truck swerved, the containers of radioactive waste it was carrying fell over and I ended up getting covered in it. It got into my eyes and blinded me, but it enhanced all of my other senses to what they are."

"Your life sounds like a comic book," Hebi deadpanned, making Matt laugh. It wasn't a chuckle or a snort, it was an actual laugh. Hebi sat up a bit straighter, seeming spurred on by it. "Boy pushes blind man out of the way, goes blind himself. But oh no, toxic waste! Which then gives the boy the exact magical powers he needs to become a kickass superhero! Kinda. Except, in hindsight, most heroes don't get beat up nearly as badly as you do," Matt just shrugged in agreement, still chuckling.

"Nobody would buy a comic book about me," Matt argued, ruffling Hebi's hair despite her squeals of indignance. "Every issue would be me getting my ass kicked for three fourths of it."

"Heh, like a Bruce Willis film. Gets beat up for an hour and a half, then comes back and hands the bad guys their asses for the last half hour straight. And people love Bruce Willis films. Daredevil comics would be a hit!" Matt sensed Hebi raising a hand to her chin, and could practically _feel_ her sly grin. "In fact…"

"Nope," Matt vetoed instantly. "No Daredevil comics. No Daredevil stories, and just in case you find a way— no Daredevil movies."

"You ruin all my fun."

"Your ice cream is melting."

"Shit!" Hebi instantly went back to devouring her treat, and Matt just leaned back and wondered how the hell a teenager could get him to relax so easily.

It wasn't until half past midnight that Hebi finally managed to fall asleep, right on top of Matt's chest like the previous night. He really had to stop letting her do that before it became a habit, the leather couch wasn't comfortable to sleep on. And, even more of a problem, he couldn't sneak out as Daredevil when she was so light of a sleeper that the moment he even _tried_ to slide out from under her she would wake up.

Matt could only sigh, for once grateful that Hebi's hearing was bad enough for the sound to not wake her up. Figures, assassins couldn't let down their guard. Apparently that meant they couldn't sleep soundly enough for their guardians to go out and beat up criminals.

Matt shifted his position— apparently they couldn't sleep soundly enough for their human pillow to get into a comfortable position to sleep in, either. But instead of opening her eyes when Matt shifted slightly, he heard her... _whine._

The sound was so soft that he probably wouldn't have heard it without his enhanced hearing at all. He stiffened when Hebi twisted closer to his chest, making that tiny whine in the back of her throat again. When it happened a third time, Matt realized what it was.

She was having a nightmare.

Probably the quietest nightmare in the world too, which meant that it probably wouldn't have caused enough of a racket to wake Matt up from a dead sleep. Worry spiked in his chest. Slowly, Matt reached up to lay his hands on Hebi's shoulder. He would normally never condone waking Hebi up forcefully since there was the risk of being constricted accidentally, but this time he didn't care. His kid needed his help again.

"Hebi," he whispered, knowing he was close enough for her to hear him. "Hebi, wake up. It's just a nightmare, you're okay!"

Hebi's grip tightened on his shirt, but her heart rate picked up enough for him to tell that she was awake. "No… no needles," or, mostly awake. "No more needles, no more shocks. I _hate cold water."_

Her voice was breathy, probably not even loud enough for her to hear herself.

"Hebi, it's okay. It's me, Matt. You're at our apartment, we fell asleep on the couch again. You're okay, Hebi. You're okay."

"I want a real dad," her half-asleep voice mumbled again, making Matt take a slow breath.

"I don't really think I'd make a good dad, Hebi. But I can't be worse than that last asshole, so…"

"So you'll adopt me?" Hebi's head shot up, eyes wide. Matt blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"Weren't you just having sleepy delusions?"

"Well, yeah but that last one was just me fishing."

" _Hebi."_

"Awesome! That's the perfect disapproving-dad voice."

"...once I adopt you, you are grounded."

"I can live with that."

"But, ground rules," Matt lifted his hand to count them out for her visually. "If this is going to happen, you have to tell me when you have a nightmare. You don't have to talk to me about the nightmare itself and you can wait until the next morning if you really want to, but I want to know. Second, you have to promise to at least try to open up to me a little more. Third, you have to make sure _I_ open up to _you_ , because I might not notice if I'm closing myself off. Deal?"

"Yeah," Hebi shrugged, laying her head back on his chest. "But I have a condition of my own."

"Shoot."

"You need to let me come out with you on your patrol every week."

" _What?"_ Matt sat up suddenly, but instead of flying off of him Hebi ended up pretty much stuck to his chest. Not the same way Spider-man stuck to a wall though, she was just able to hold her whole body weight on his body with just the minuscule anchor of her fingers curled into his shirt. Less sticky, more clingy. Ignoring his new jacket, Matt glared down towards Hebi. "Absolutely not. It is way too dangerous—"

"For you to do alone? I agree. You haven't even seen me fight full out, we haven't even sparred in the gym yet. You just stick me on the weights and punching bags and go do your own thing," Hebi lowered her butt back onto the couch, slowly letting go of Matt's shirt before she tore it. "Come on, please?"

Matt frowned deeply. There was no way he could allow it. Not only could Hebi get hurt— _again—_ she would also be exposed to more of the way he fought as Daredevil. Matt wasn't the most kid friendly vigilante, he broke bones and occasionally tortured information out of people, and there were a few coma-induced patients in the list of people he beat up. There was no way Hebi would be okay with living under the same roof as somebody like that. Not even Foggy, who had been his best friend for years, could completely accept that violent side of him. And after the amount of violence Hebi had already had to endure, he didn't want her to have to fight even more. Or to see that kind of fighting anymore.

"No. Hebi, I can keep you safe right here. You don't have to fight. It's my job, _especially_ if I adopt you, to keep you _safe._ You can have a normal life, forget about what they did to you. Become a biochemist or whatever other job you might want."

"Don't be stupid," Hebi had definitely never said something like to Matt before, not seriously. He felt his frown deepen, her tone having been dark and stubborn enough to tell him that he wouldn't win the argument easily. "You can't just forget about stuff like that. I know you know better. I'm not going to wake up one day and not remember the shit they put me through. Not unless I got one hell of a knock on my head, but I rather not risk losing any _good_ memories on that tactic. But I _can_ defend myself and you _can_ benefit from having a usually-functioning pair of eyes backing you up."

"There is no way you are coming out on your shed cycle, for _sure,"_ Matt instantly rebuked, not liking where the argument was heading.

"Don't be a hypocrite—"

" _No, Hebi!_ You don't have the same sonar senses or anything that I do, it isn't the same when you're blind. You are way better off than most with your heat vision, but that just won't cut it all the time in a fight. People can come up behind you and you won't hear them."

"I can wear thin soled shoes to feel their steps through the ground," Hebi instantly offered.

May grit his teeth, not about to let up. "I said _no._ That is final, Hebi."

Perhaps if he had been able to see, he would have noticed the look that entered the teenager's eyes and known the mistake he had made. But he couldn't, so he had no idea.

"Then don't adopt me. I won't have Matt Murdock as my dad and not Daredevil, and I won't set myself up to lose another parent."

Hebi pushed Matt back down after that, curling up on his chest again. The vigilante could only frown, upset by the events but not about to back down.

"If you're mad at me, then get off," Matt snapped. "I would like to sleep on my silk sheets, thanks."

"Hell no, if I get up then you'll sneak out on patrol."

Damn.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed, and Hebi's shed cycle came about only two days after the two month mark of knowing Matt. She wore her dark purple sunglasses that Karen had bought for her during that shopping spree so long ago already. They sat close to her face, covering her eyes even from the sides so that it wouldn't be easy for somebody to catch glimpse of the milky, opaque white that covered her eyes before shedding off.

Once again, Matt had picked up on it almost immediately. He and Hebi had been slightly strained over the past week or so since their argument, but they still ate breakfast together every day and pretended everything was fine. Matt still made effort to take more time with Hebi, whose bullet wound was healed enough by then for her to go back into her instinctual sleep pretzels and basic contortion. Claire, who insisted on a follow up with her late at night, did warn the both of them that Hebi should avoid overworking it but that it was healing slightly faster and probably about as perfectly as it could.

"It's the snake genes," Hebi told Matt that morning as she sat at the table sensing out the placement of her food with her heat vision. "Snakes, and a lot of reptiles in general, can make full recoveries from extremely devastating injury even out in the wild. My DNA might have been effected in a similar way, making my immune system more resistant to injury infection. I haven't really been lucid enough to ask whenever it was relevant though."

Matt swallowed a bite of his omelette, eyebrows furrowed. "You aced your entrance exams, maybe you can test your DNA after school in one of Midtown's high tech labs one day. There might be things you can do that you don't know about yet," He tilted his head in thought. "Maybe we should test how far your strength goes in the gym this weekend. I know you can crush guns with your constriction, but what about lifting strength?"

Matt could sense Hebi shrug, sipping her morning tea. It was a new blend she had put together to test, and even picky Matt had given it his seal of approval despite not being nearly as into tea as his ward was.

"I don't really think it's the same kind of strength. Contracting your muscles is different than pushing or punching outwards. I can lift a car though, I think. I've only ever really had to lift one off the ground a bit so I don't know if I'd be able to bench press one or anything, but it's an idea."

"Yeah, the idea of you bench pressing a car is terrifying," Matt's face was twisted a bit at the mental image. Hebi snorted. It was pretty relaxed despite the tension of their argument still hanging in the air. But then again, it was Hebi's shed cycle. Her shed cycle tended to bring them a bit closer and it was easy to see that even if it was only the third shed cycle she’d had around Matt.

"Well, deadlifting a car takes a different kind of strength," Hebi spoke again. "I mean I'm built for assassination, not wrestling. I'm fast and I have a lot of explosive and endurance strength, but not really brute strength. You know, my body is built for one or two super strong hits at a time, not holding a building over my head."

"Or apparently acting really creepy, and keeping your body horizontal over open air with only your ankle anchored around the back of the sofa. For an hour."

Matt could feel the heat in Hebi's face heat up as the girl blushed. "I wanted to make sure I didn't lose any of my core strength! I told you, _endurance_ strength. Snakes don't have limbs to hold them up, it takes a lot of endurance to hold a strike pose like they do."

"Don't lie, you were trying to find the teaspoon you dropped but couldn't see where it rolled. I don't know why you'd think staying in place would make it pop out of thin air, but—"

"I thought maybe I just couldn't see it because of my vision! So, uh, I wanted to stay still to see if I'd notice a gleam of the metal or something."

"It was behind you."

"I know that _now!"_

Eventually Foggy came to pick up Matt, and Hebi slinked over to the cabinet they had gotten set up in a corner to hold all of Hebi's non-clothing items. All her clothes were stored in one half of Matt's closet, which had taken getting used to for both of them but worked out. Opening the first door of the cabinet, Hebi stared towards her stack of school books that she had gotten early to study for the new, extremely intense school she would be going to. And realized;

She _wouldn't be able to read for one week every month._

"Ah, shit," she muttered. She never learned Braille because her blindness was always temporary, but even if she did it wouldn't really cover for her in school when she was trying to hide her blindness. Hebi was extremely fond of chemistry, but mechanics flew over her head. She knew there was no way in hell she'd be able to make anything to help her with her predicament.

"Well," she muttered. "I guess I need to beg a favor from the old grouch," she sighed, adding that to her list of chores for the day. "But first things first," she closed that door and opened the bottom most drawer of the closet now that she knew she wouldn't be able to study just yet. Underneath a few hats and a brand new backpack laid a wrapped bundle, which she pulled out. Slowly pulling off the butcher paper wrapped around it, three pieces of fabric were revealed.

Hebi wasn't able to see it, but she had already looked over it visually the day before when she had snuck out during the day to get it. She had been able to let Matt leave her at home so she could prepare for her new school year, especially since she had summer assignments to finish up before the year began.

But with her eye caps currently rendering her blind, the teenager settled for running her fingers over the durable material. Satisfied, she packed it into her still-empty backpack, followed by a generously sized glass jar of her newest tea blend. She hoped it would soften up the grouch she was about to visit. After a moment's thought, she also pulled the first textbook she could grab into the bag too, just in case. Slipping out of her pajamas and into a real outfit for the day, she headed out.

Hebi lifted her phone to her lips. "Text Foggy- 'I'll be out visiting a friend, but I'll be back before dinner. Tell Matt for me.'"

"Text sent."

—*—*—*—*—*

I knocked on the door in front of me, one hand still wrapped around the strap of my backpack. Inside the house was slightly disorienting— every time I touched the wall I could feel millions of tiny vibrations as if there were tons of tiny men running around inside. Thankfully though, it didn't take very long for the door to open to an unfamiliar woman. Unfortunately, the woman's perfume hurt my tongue and I had to keep my mouth partially closed to deal with it.

"Yes?" Her voice was cool and professional, but friendly enough I supposed.

"I'm here to see Hank Pym. You can tell him the brat that saved his life is here, he'll understand."

I could feel the woman's muscles tense in shock, making me grin slightly.

"Saved my life? You saved me from a broken arm, don't be dramatic!" The voice that called out angrily from deeper inside the house made me snicker. "Get in here, maybe I can force you to eat a decent meal for once!"

The woman in the door sighed, stepping aside to let me in. "Follow me," she said simply, and I did as she asked as she led me into the house's dining room.

"Wow, new clothes? Glasses?" Hank Pym seemed surprised. "Was someone finally able to drag you off the streets, girl?" Even though my ears were focused on the old man, my heat vision and scent receptors were analyzing the new body also in the room with me. Male, thankfully not wearing overpowering cologne.

Shaking off my observations, I grinned and slung my backpack forward so I could reach into it and pull out the glass jar I had packed inside.

"Yeah, but that's a story for another time. I recently was able to buy a bunch of herbs, and I mixed a tea blend especially for you," I held the offering out with a large smile on my face. The old man just stared in my direction for a moment before reaching out to grab the jar almost greedily.

"Hebi, this is my daughter Hope and a guy I'm training, Scott. Scott, Hope, this is Hebi. She caught me when I was about to fall down a cement staircase, and ever since she's been showing up with any information she thinks I need to know. She's good at hearing important information," Hank filled in the other two people in the room before turning his gaze back to me. I could feel his half-hearted glare and grinned in response. "And she is clearly buttering me up. What do you want?"

I tilted my head, considering the other two people with us. Just because Hope was his daughter didn't really mean— "You can trust them. I know you have some abilities you have never told me about, does this have something to do with them?"

I sighed. "I forgot how observant you old people are," I teased. "So you're training a new Ant-man? You any good with mechanics, Scott?" The man, who I could practically feel boiling over with the need to talk (seriously, he was jittery and his overflowing energy was starting to slightly get on my nerves), instantly took the opportunity to speak.

"I'm more of an electrician, personally. And I'm totally already the new Ant-man, I don't need any more training. By the way, should she know about that? It really doesn't seem like a kid should know about that. And what my secret identity?"

Hank let out a long-suffering sigh at Scott's word vomit that made me chuckle. "I told you, Scott," Hank interrupted the still-talking man slowly. "Hebi hears things. It wouldn't surprise me if she researched me after saving me that first time, and found all the hidden information about the Ant-Man. She confessed she knew about it after the third time we met. Get to the point brat, it must be one heck of a favor if you're stalling this much."

I sighed, rubbing my forehead and taking a seat at the table with Hank and Scott without asking. Nobody corrected me, so I set my backpack on the table.

"For those of you who don't know, I was homeless until recently. But two months ago, some stuff happened and I ended up getting a legal guardian I can trust. Because of that, I'm finally able to go back to school and I even ended up testing into Midtown Science," an appreciative whistle came from Scott at the news, and I could feel even Hank slightly lean back in his seat. Hope, who I had nearly forgotten was in the room, hummed in approval.

"Sounds like nothing but good news to me, Kid," Scott spoke. "Midtown's top of the line."

"Yeah, I'm excited," I admitted with a smile that vanished a second later. "But that's where the issue starts. I'm a chemistry and biology girl, I suck at mechanics and really anything electrical. But my abilities give me a bit of a… disability, that I would like to hide."

"A disability?" Hope asked, finally moving to join the rest of us at the table. "What kind of disability?"

I frowned, thinking over my phrasing for a moment. "I… don't want to go into details, but I'm a mutate. I was injected with radioactive snake DNA, and got several different abilities from it. But not all of them are beneficial," I ignored whatever reactions the others were giving, instead reaching for my glasses. "This is one of them. Every month, I experience my version of a shed cycle. It lasts six days, with the shed coming off on day seven," I pulled the sunglasses off my face. The silence was thick. "It renders me blind for almost a week. I can't read or study normally, and I can't read Braille. People don't tend to just go blind temporarily, and I don't want anyone to know about my abilities. I was hoping you could make something that might be able to read for me during these periods. Maybe scan text and read it into my ear."

"That would be distracting though, especially in school when you have to also listen to teachers," Scott spoke up, drumming his fingers on the table. It was clear he was still reeling from what I had revealed, but worked through it. "And normally you'd need one of those sticks to navigate if you're blind, right? How did you walk in here as easily as if you could see?"

Yeah, it was naive of me to think I could get something made for me without giving away some more of my abilities. I sighed, deciding to bite the bullet. Hank was a good man, I'd just have to trust him and the other two in the room.

"I have heat pits hidden under the outermost layer of skin on my lips, and right under my nose," I admitted. "It gives me accurate heat sensing, basically heat vision."

"How accurate?" Hank spoke up again, and I could sense him straightening up in his seat. I chuckled.

"To a hundredth of a degree and a sixteenth of an inch. Why?"

Hank stood up, and I could just tell he probably had an idea. "I'll have something for you by Monday. Bring another jar of tea. And bring those sunglasses back with you too."

—*—*—*—*—*

I left Hank Pym's New York house, but instead of going back home I decided to try out a trial run in the outfit I had packed in my backpack, back in an abandoned building I had used as a squat once for a while back when I was still homeless. I only left because it had gotten too stuffy for me during the hot weather leading up to summer.

Slipping in, I did a full scan of the floor I had chosen in the abandoned office building to make sure nobody was currently around. Once that was done, I slipped into one of the small rooms that was probably a closet back when the building was still in use, and slipped on the costume for the first time.

I used the columns in the building and the scattered, leftover furniture to test out the outfit. It was flexible, and the feet on it offered protection while still being thin enough to allow me to feet vibrations through the ground. The mask had tinted lenses, allowing me to see out but not allowing anyone to see in—both for my identity's sake and to hide my eyes when I was in shed so nobody would be able to tell when I was blind. I spent about an hour trying everything out before packing up and leaving the building, mentally thanking that contact I knew that owed me a favor. I had stayed in the shadows or behind him the whole time when dealing with them, so they didn't know who I was. Being homeless had had its perks, such as accidentally running into people with certain skills that were suddenly coming into handy.

That night, after dinner and after hanging out with Matt for a while, I pretended to go to sleep. If Matt wasn't going to let me out on patrol with him, I'd go out on my own. I had only waited a week to get a decent costume made, figuring I might as well protect my identity if I was going to make a target out of myself. The material wasn't as durable as what Matt's costume was made of, probably, but I did made sure it would at least keep a knife from hitting me too deeply. It wasn't bullet proof at all, though, but I figured I needed more flexibility than durability in my costume unlike Matt since my fighting style was so different. I wouldn't brawl against multiple people like he did unless it was unavoidable, so hopefully I wouldn't need the armor factor.

I waited ten minutes after Matt left to slip out of the window, knowing he had gotten far enough to stop tuning in to the apartment. In my new costume, I used the rooftops as my road and followed Matt's scent trail.

Toes barely touching down at each step, I ran low across each roof until I heard the telltale sounds of fighting. I smirked, which was visible in the opening of my mask around my mouth. Trust my guardian to be able to find criminals so quickly, I wouldn't be surprised if he just had another gift for finding people that needed their asses kicked.

I leapt onto a nearby street lamp, hanging by my ankles upside down on it, not far from the busted light bulb of the lamp. I let my mouth fall opens but more, identifying all the different bodies by heat and scent in the fray that was below. Nobody had noticed me, which was good because it meant I hadn't regressed in my training.

I waited for a minute, observing as my guardian fought against the seven men at once. I didn't want to get in his way, I just wanted to prove my point. So, once I noticed a man starting to aim a gun at him behind his back I swung myself down. My arm coiled around the gun barrel, crumbling it in on itself even as my other hand swung a fist straight at the man's temple. The hit connected easily, and man crumbling down unconscious. I turned back to the rest of the fight, identifying four of the heat signatures that Daredevil had been fighting out cold across the ground, leaving two more against him.

Matt had apparently taken several hard hits, but I wasn't too worried. Now that it was down to two and Matt had likely noticed me, I jumped in to grab one of the men. I disarmed and knocked him out right as Matt finished with the last guy himself. As I suspected, he was no longer shocked when he turned to me— but I could tell by the way his fists were clenched by his sides that he was not happy.

"I thought we talked about this, H…" he stopped himself, clearly not wanting to say my name out loud. I shrugged.

"Come on, double D. You should have known I wouldn't listen for long," I felt strangely confident in my costume, like it marked my graduation into a certified badass. "As far as names go, let's just say Python. It's simple and not too cartoony."

For a long moment, all he could do was make sounds of frustration, so I walked over and took one of the guy's phones to dial 911 for him. By the time I knew the police were on the way, Matt had collected himself.

"Go back," he grumbled in his gravelly Daredevil voice. I turned back to him, eyebrows raised under my mask.

"Sorry, I'm a vigilante now. And since I have nothing to do with Daredevil, you can't order me around. So," I jumped up, kicking off the side of a building and grabbing easily back onto the lamp post I had started on. My fingers of my right hand easily held my whole body weight. "You're stuck with me for now, Darey."

I heard a short growl of frustration come from his voice, but he obviously saw the situation for being the hopeless mess it was on his part and didn't offer another argument.

"Fine, but we are talking about this later. Keep up, and don't get in my way," he growled out, and I smiled in triumph. I pulled myself up higher and then swung myself over so I was hanging upside down with only my fingers curled around the lamppost keeping me up in the air. Below me, Matt stayed still for a moment before climbing up to the roof of the building next to my lamppost, and crouching down as he tuned in to a larger area to sense any other crime that might have been happening.

"Come on," he grumbled, taking off. I grinned as I flipped off from my upside-down position to land next to him, running by his side.

"You know, you sound like a grumpy old man when you talk like that," I kept my voice down, almost quiet enough for me to be unable to hear myself. But, of course, Daredevil could hear me perfectly. He didn't dignify my quip with a response, picking up his pace slightly instead. I didn't rise to the bait, instead staying a steady few feet behind him.

It didn't take long for us to reach the next crime, which had me clenching my jaw. I crouched down by the lip of a building, letting my heat vision scan the scene even as Daredevil jumped down. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't jump down with him because I worked better as backup to thin out the people he had to fight one by one.

There was a girl, probably about my age, knocked out and in the arms of one of the men. Another girl around the same age, awake, was straining against another older female who was clearly very strong considering she didn't seem burdened at all by the younger girl's struggles. The teenager was trying to yell despite getting smacked at every attempt. A man was heading to gag her, but that was the first person Matt jumped in to knock out. The man and the female with the hostages backed up, letting the three other men with them draw their guns and run in to face my guardian.

 _Break it apart_ , I ordered myself silently. My instincts told me to protect Matt, but my logic told me that he didn't need it nearly as much as those girls did. The people trying to kidnap the girls smelled like drugs, alcohol, gunpowder, and chloroform. I could smell tranquilizers in one of the man's guns, suggesting they were professionals. Probably traffickers.

"We'll take the cargo, join us at the meet up point once you kill the Devil," the rough voice of the woman barked out right before she and the man carrying the passed out teenager turned and ran. Definitely traffickers. I narrowed my blind eyes, leaping forward to land on the building across the alley closer to the fleeing kidnappers before jumping down in front of them.

" who the hell are you?" The man fell back, the woman having an arm free despite the struggles of her captive and used it to aim a gun at me. I smirked.

"Just a demon, no big deal," I quipped darkly, running forward before she pulled the trigger. I ducked into a roll, and twisted after my landing so my legs knocked the woman off her feet. As she fell backwards I surged up, grabbing her wrist and _squeezing._ My hand easily broke her wrist, squeezing a scream of pain from the woman's throat as she dropped the gun in that now ruined hand. I grabbed the weapon before it hit the ground, crumpling and barrel before hurling it at the head of the second kidnapper. The metal soundly hit the man's head, knocking him back and making him lose grip of the girl he was carrying. I slammed my elbow into the female kidnapper's head to knock her out before surging forward, grabbing the male kidnapper by the throat and slamming my knee right into his crotch.

Another pained scream entered the air, slightly strangled by my careful grip on his throat. The combination of me limiting his air and his pain from my dirty kick made him limp, so I got rid of his weapons and dropped him.

That dealt with, I turned to the passed out girl and leaned her carefully against the wall, pushing my finger gently against her neck to feel the vibration of her pulse. It was slow, but steady. She was just sedated. The other girl, sobbing for a multitude of reasons, walked up behind me. It wasn't hard to track the salt in the air from her tears or the vibration of her slightly heavy footsteps.

"Th-Thank you," the girl stuttered. "Is, is Stacy okay?" I frowned at the other girl's vulnerable tone in her voice. It reminded me all too much of how I had felt only slightly more than a week earlier.

"Just sedated," I reached over to grab the phone I had taken off the female kidnapper. "Take this. Call the cops—" I sat up suddenly, hearing a familiar yell of pain after a gunshot. "Shit. Do as I say, count to a hundred and twenty and call the cops. Stay near your friend, and yell if one of these two wakes up, got it? And if anyone asks, just say I'm Python. I don't want to find out what crazy nickname the press will make for me otherwise," I kicked the man so he was completely passed out instead of limp in pain, just to be safe. Once I registered the girl nodding, I ran back to Matt.

All four men he had been fighting were out, but he was bleeding. A bullet had hit the weaker red fabric of his costume, sending the scent of his blood into the air. I cursed under my breath, jogging over to where he was leaning heavily against a wall in the alley. Even I could hear his pained panting.

"I'm fine," he growled out at me. "The girls?"

"Oh please I know you could hear us, we weren't far. Don't change the subject, I need to carry you."

"It went clean through," Matt informed me, and I tilted my head to realize I could, actually, smell blood coming from an exit wound as well as the entrance. That made things easier, at least. Carrying him wouldn't strain my own healing wound too much, and the bullet went through his thigh so there was no way he was walking home.

"The nurse's place? It'll be easier to take you there," I asked softly, turning and jabbing a thumb towards my shoulder. "Come on, hop on."

"... this is humiliating," I managed to hear him mutter, making me snort as I felt him climb onto my back. The fact that he was almost a full foot taller than me didn't make it hard.

I easily shouldered my guardian's weight, running down the alley until I reached a fire escape I could climb without jostling the vigilante on my back too much. Once I was traveling over rooftops again and following Matt's directions, I decided to speak.

"You know, how would you have made it home without me? Or to Claire's?"

"Hebi."

"You would have called Foggy right? After stumbling somewhere halfway safe and probably passing out. Foggy can't defend himself like I can, plus this is so much more sanitary than passing out in an alleyway."

"Hebi," Matt said again, huffing, but I didn't relent.

"And what if there had been another guy still awake? Those two with the girls might have escaped if I wasn't there—"

"I _get it_. You can come out with me twice a week on patrol, once on your shed. You're so stubborn," the last part was said in a slightly fond grumble, but I still heard it. "But not more than that. You'll have school to focus on soon and you'll need to put a lot of effort into your studies. Especially on your— shit, how will we be able to hide your shed cycle at school? How did I not think of that?"

I grinned. "I got it covered, I visited a friend earlier today that might be able to help. Maybe you can tell the school I have an eye condition though, so that I'll be allowed to wear my sunglasses in class during the shed cycle."

"Take a left here. Do I even want to know who the friend is? How did you even get this costume, it feels professionally done."

"A different acquaintance made it for me. And as for my friend, maybe I'll tell you when you don't have a bleeding hole in your leg."

Our conversation tapered off, and I followed the last of his directions until I was tapping on glass of an apartment window. After a moment I heard the curtains inside rustling, and then the lock being flipped and the window sliding open. I grinned at the mass of heat I recognized as Claire on the other side, stepping in with Matt still on my back.

"Decided to switch roles, did you?" She asked after I set Matt down and pulled off my mask. I forced my eyes closed despite the discomfort of feeling my eyelids over the old skin of my shedding eye caps, so that Claire didn't have to see them. "How did you even carry him, kid? Isn't he at least twice your weight?"

"She's strong," Matt answered for me, lifting off his own mask as Claire sat down with a large box of what I assumed were medical supplies and began to treat his wound.

"Of course she is. My life can't get any weirder, I don't know why I'm still surprised," The nurse said with long suffering in her voice that made me smirk half-heartedly. I had pushed it back when my mask was on, but having Matt injured like this was terrifying. Even worse, I knew he was going to hide it as much as possible during the day which meant he was going to be walking on his injured leg as he worked.

After Claire did as much as she could, I sling my guardian back onto my back and begin a much slower trek to our apartment. Matt was fading in and out of sleep, so the journey was silent. At least, until we got in and I laid him in his insanely soft bed.

"...I'm adopting you," he spoke up suddenly after I pulled the blanket up over his still mostly-costumed body. I looked down towards him in surprise. "I know you're strong. And I know I'm not invincible. It'll be better if we're there for each other— and besides, tonight proved you're too damn stubborn to _not_ be a Murdock."

I chuckled. "Goodnight, Matt," I muttered as I walked to the restroom to change out of my costume and into my pajamas. My whole body ached slightly from the long journey both ways, especially having to carry Matt so far, and the sudden ache in my chest told me that the female kidnapper must have landed a hit I hadn't noticed in the midst of mid-fight adrenaline. I'd probably have a nasty bruise.

And I knew that fights from then on probably wouldn't go in my favor so well. They weren't expecting me to be by Daredevil's side, but once word of the new Vigilante in Hell's Kitchen got out people would be ready for me.

I couldn't help but be excited.

—*—*—*—*—*

**A/N. yeah, this didn't end up quite as good as I was hoping, but oh well. Maybe one more chapter before school starts up for Hebi? We'll see, I'm kinda just playing this by ear. And yes, Spider-Man/ Peter Parker will be a pretty important character once he shows up. I am making some changes to his character though, throwing in a little Fanon stuff to mix things up. But it is mostly based around Homecoming Spider-Man, with other canon and fanon mixing in. More about that in the A/N that will come along with his appearance chapter.**

**Was this okay? Tell me what you think. Until then,**

**See you next chapter!~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i made a few changes because hindsight is 20/20. I wanted Hebi’s character to be more awkward and more skilled fight wise than my timeline for her made sense for her to be. So: 
> 
> New timeline:  
> Hebi is Six years old. Mom dies, dad kidnaps her  
> |  
> From ages 6 through 12, trained as a child assassin and forced on missions.  
> |  
> Hebi is twelve years old, escapes Dryad. Kills dad and several scientists to do it.  
> |  
> Ages 12 through 15, homeless and getting random training from people she meets.  
> |  
> Age 15, found by Matt. Story starts. 
> 
> I already went back and made the necessary changes in earlier chapters. Feel free to tell me if I missed something. Thanks!

 

— ***—*—*—*—***

It was obvious to Matt and I that the group that I had been kidnapped, experimented on, trained by, and kidnapped by _again,_ had to be completely dealt with before school started. It was just an additional summer project, like the ones I was working on with Foggy to help me. He read out what I needed to do, and I would do whatever possible without use of my sight. He and Matt offered to teach me Braille, and I only accepted since it wouldn't hurt anything and I had no idea if it would ever come in handy to help Matt out or not, so it was just a good decision all around. I wasn't in any rush though, so lessons were slow and inconsistent.

When the seventh day of my shed cycle came, I couldn't help but heave a sigh. When I opened my eyes that morning, dull light filtered through a detached layer of skin and all I had to do was peel it away in order to expose the colors and shapes I had desperately missed during my six days of blindness. Perhaps that was the worst part of it; I wasn't allowed to get used to being blind like Matt had been. He wasn't constantly gaining and losing a whole sense, he just had to deal with the constant lack of it. But I was never allowed that. The days leading up to my shed were always stressful, because I couldn't help but hope that I would wake up being able to see even though I knew I wouldn't. And then having my eyesight returned like clockwork before I could even completely settle into the lifestyle of being blind— it hurt. It was stressful, annoying. I couldn't decide if it was better to just be permanently blind, because at least then I wouldn't have to deal with the emotional whiplash of the sensory teeter-totter I was constantly on.

I never told any of that to Matt, of course. It would be in- _sense_ -itive.

Bad Hebi, don't make sensory puns.

After peeling away my eye caps and sitting up, I took a moment to just look around and reacquaint myself with the appearance of my surroundings. With the familiarity of color and shapes and objects. Everything was soft, slightly blurry around the edges because of my bad eyesight, but it was there. It was better than being blind.

After a moment of settling back into being able to see, I opened my mouth and let the smell of breakfast waft onto my scent receptors. Matt was in the kitchen— I forgot how his hair was red during my shed cycle, and found myself unable to stop staring for a short moment as he cooked with his back turned to me— cooking omelettes and toast. I smiled despite the loaded thoughts I had been having, happy for the tiny bit of routine. I forced myself up, going over to make my morning tea as Matt finished up cooking.

"Morning," he greeted, turning his head slightly in my direction. He didn't try to make eye contact like he did with most people unless we were having a serious conversation. I stilled for a moment, trying to figure out when _that_ had become a thing. I remembered he had tried to make as accurate of eye connection as possible back when we had first met, but somewhere along the line he had gotten comfortable enough to stop doing that. I couldn't help but smile to myself as I turned the heat up under my teapot.

It made me happy to know that Matt was comfortable enough around me to not feel like he had to act like somebody with sight. We both knew it was unnecessary.

"Hebi?"

Oh, I had stayed in my thoughts just a couple seconds longer than normal. I had missed that Matt had been trying to talk to me.

"Sorry, I was thinking. What'd you say? And you shouldn't be on your feet, it's only a week."

Matt scoffed. "And I was on my feet last week too. I'm fine, stop worrying. That's my job," he flipped he omelette he was working on and ignored my disbelieving snort. "Anyway, I was asking if you wanted to come to the office today. We'll be spending most of the day working on paperwork, so you can just hang out and help Karen or something."

I shook my head, knowing he'd pick it up. "Nah," I opened the cupboards to pull out a few boxes of herbs. Would lemongrass and lavender go together? I wanted to try out a new blend. "I have to go over to my friend's today. He should have something ready so I can read during my shed."

I turned my head just in time to see Matt's raised brow. I had only told him that a friend of mine had promised to work on something to help me seem normal during my shed, but I hadn't said anything more in depth than that.

"How could he make something like that? I'm pretty sure I'd know about anything that could help a blind person read without Braille."

I winced, hating the fact that Matt had a point. Whatever Hank made probably wouldn't work for him, which just made me feel guilty. "I'm pretty sure he's making it to be compatible with my heat vision. I'll give you the full description once I find out what it is myself, okay?"

Matt didn't seem bothered in the slightest, which I expected because he was too fucking good of a person. He just nodded, humming in thought. "That makes sense. Tell me how it goes, and call when you're on your way back home."

"I can take care of myself," I said playfully, grinning at him. "In fact, I can take care of both of us at the same time. But if it helps, I'll make sure to call as soon as I leave my friend's house."

I couldn't quite see past his glasses, but I was pretty sure Matt rolled his eyes at what I said as he turned and plated my food for me.

"Thank you, _Boa."_

I groaned, picking up my fork and stabbing my omelette in annoyance. "I'm still upset about that! The press just completely ignored what the girl told them and changed my name. 'The witness stated the mysterious new vigilante wanted to go by the name Python. We have decided to instead name her Boa,'" I quoted the line I had memorized in the most annoying falsetto I could manage. The face Matt made assured me that I had succeeded.

"They stuck to the snake theme though, so I don't see why you're upset. Boa is better anyway," he responded.

"If they were gonna change it, they could have been creative instead of just jumping to a different species," I angrily shoved a bite of omelette into my mouth. "Like, they could have said _Biach_ , after the Biach Green Tree Python. Or Retic, like Reticulated Python. At least they didn't go venomous though, that would just be inaccurate."

I pointedly ignored the teasing grin on Matt's face when he sat down with his own food in front of me. I used getting my tea as an excuse to further ignore him for a full extra minute.

I had been grounded for the week after my sneak out, so I was going to be able to go out on patrol for the first time since then that very night, which made me a bit excited. I hid it though, not wanting to talk to Matt about my excitement and not wanting to seem like a little kid about it.

But I was the new person that he contacted first if he needed help, instead of Foggy. Because even Matt knew that I could defend myself better than his best friend, and he didn't want to put anyone in unnecessary danger when there was a safer solution.

"I know you're excited. I can still hear your heartbeat," said guardian ruined my illusion of secrecy in one swift blow, making me groan in despair around a bite of omelette. "You know the deal. Your grades slip, you are off of patrol until they go up again. Twice a week only, at least until you settle in at school. And you listen to me, no going off and doing your own thing without running it by me first."

I swallowed my bite of food, nodding. "Yeah, I've agreed already. Three times."

"You have a habit of not listening," Matt deadpanned, making me chuckle.

"Foggy's coming up, finish your food already."

Matt shook his head with a smile. "I know, I heard him."

"Showoff."

—*—*—*—*—*

An hour and a half later, I found myself once again at Hank Pym's doorstep. He was probably running through a drill with ants with Scott, because the tiny vibrations inside the house were enough to almost give me a headache. It was usually only that bad when I was standing right next to an anthill.

"Oh, it's you," Hope greeted when she answered the door. Normally something like that would sound rude, but from her it just sounded… neutral. She almost instantly picked up on the fact that I was off my shed cycle, her gaze locking with my uncovered eyes. "Huh, hazel. I like the green in them," she said casually before turning to lead me inside. I had to suppress a snort; I was no expert at social interaction, but she was terrible.

Hope didn't lead me to the dining room this time, but to the living room instead. Sure enough, there were obedient lines of ants marching in two different directions, carrying various items on their backs. I raised an eyebrow, watching them for a moment. I was pretty apathetic towards most bugs, not afraid but not interested. Arachnids were cool though, I had always been interested in tarantulas as a pet. And snakes. But after everything I had went through, I knew I'd have to wait until I was able to take care of myself before even thinking about a pet.

"Ah, you're here!" That was Hank, who looked up from watching Scott. The man seemed to be on his phone while using Hank's machine to control the ants, so it was likely just a multitasking exercise. The old man stood up, walking over to me. "You brought the sunglasses right?" I nodded at the man's words, slinging my backpack over my shoulder to pull out the glasses case from the small front pocket. I handed it to him, and the man disappeared down a hallway without another word. I raised an eyebrow, not used to how the man behaved when he was working on a project.

"Umm," I looked over at Hope, who rolled her eyes.

"He gets like this, don't worry. He'll be back out in a moment. You won't believe how excited he was about the challenge your problem gave him, he locked himself in his lab until he had a prototype figured out."

"I still can't believe nobody is talking about Ant Man," Scott complained from his spot on the couch, making me snort and take a seat across from him. Now that I was able to see, I took my time committing his and Hope's faces to memory. Hope was pretty, but severe and intimidating with her professional attire and sharp angled bob. The kind of woman I normally would have pinned as a secret corporate mastermind who controlled her business with an iron fist and her subordinates called a bitch behind her back. She definitely seemed a bit rough around the edges and too uptight, but she had been pretty nice to me so I was gonna give her the benefit of the doubt.

Scott, on the other hand, was normal. The kind of normal that was dangerous, he would blend into almost any crowd and seemed like the type that could get along with almost anybody if he tried. Easy to smile, with a spark of intelligence in his eyes that betrayed his tendency towards mischief. He was probably a petty criminal of some sort, I summed up, but trying to change. If he wasn't on the up-and-up, he wouldn't be Ant-Man after all.

Being homeless really helped give a person the ability to accurately analyze others.

"Have you even done anything as Ant-Man recently?" I asked, smirking. Scott looked up from his phone to meet my eyes.

"Well, no, but still! I'm way more interesting than this new vigilante people won't shut up about. _Boa_ ," he spat the name with jealousy, but there was no real heat to his voice. He was just being petty. "This guy's only popular because he helped out Daredevil. I bet they don't even know each other."

"Boa?" Hope spoke up, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall. Did that woman ever sit down and relax? "Isn't that the snake-themed guy that helped Daredevil save those two girls from traffickers?"

"Snakes seem to be popular nowadays, don't they?" Hank's voice caused us all to look back at where he was coming back out from his lab. "First Hebi tells us about being given radioactive snake DNA, and the same day she asks for our help a mysterious snake themed vigilante shows up. The witness couldn't even remember if Boa was a man or woman."

I smiled, and I could feel the humor lighting up my eyes. That damn observant old man. The air was silent with Hank's sudden hint, and I darted my gaze to see that Scott was suddenly stiff with shock and there was playful betrayal in his eyes.

"Hebi! How could you, I thought we were friends! Blasphemy! Betrayal! How dare you steal my spotlight?"

"We have literally known each other for a total of less than fifteen minutes. Get over it," I quipped back happily, standing up to meet Hank halfway as he came over to hand me my sunglasses.

I raised an eyebrow at the old man, who gestured impatiently for me to take a closer look at the glasses. I rolled my eyes, pulling the arms back to see that a small device had been screwed to one of the arms, close to the lense where nobody would see it unless I took them off my face.

"Okay. How will this help me?" I asked, slipping the glasses onto my face.

"There's a button on the top of the device, click it," Hank instructed. I shrugged, raising my hand to find that the button came completely level to the top of the glasses arm, allowing me to easily click it down. Nothing seemed to happen. Hank didn't seem disturbed though, grabbing a book from a nearby bookshelf and placing it on the table on a random page. "Now sit down and look at the book as if you were going to read it normally."

I frowned in confusion, but did as he asked.

"And close your eyes."

I sighed, but closed them.

"Hank, what—"

"Look with your heat vision, Hebi. It's the only way to make this work," Hank instructed somewhat impatiently. I huffed in slight annoyance, but focused on bringing my heat vision into focus.

And… I saw squiggles? 'Saw' being a loose term of course, since I was actually feeling the temperature and not seeing with my eyes. "That's weird, there's little spirals of heat over the paper. Is that normal?"

"Of course, it's the whole purpose of the device. It works by targeting ink and raising the pinpoint temperature of the different metals and dyes in the ink. It also helps your heat accuracy, so instead of only being accurate to the sixteenth of an inch you can be accurate to the fourth of a millimeter. If you turn the button to the right, it increases the temperature of the ink so that the contrast is greater, I imagine it's like raising the focus on a camera lense. Turn it to the left for the opposite effect. You can raise the temperature to a total of one and a half degrees higher than the paper it's on, but I doubt you'll need to be that drastic."

I shook my head in amazement, raising my finger to gently turn the small dial to the right. It didn't take long for the squiggles of heat I sensed to become letters, albeit they were slightly hard to read since it was like reading super bold font, but it was just something to get used to.

"The cobra flattens its distinctive hood in order to look larger and scare off— did you honestly give me a snake book to test this out on, Hank?" I opened my eyes to look up at the older man through the very thick purple tint of my lenses. The man shrugged unapologetically.

"Stick to the theme," he said as explanation. "So there, we know it works. And just in case you need to switch glasses for whatever reason," Hank held out his hand, and I took off my glasses so I could see better. He opened his hand to reveal another device, identical to the one I had just tried out, laying in his palm. "This one has a second button on the bottom. That button activates the adhesive on the back, so you can stick this onto any pair of glasses you need it to stick to. Double click to release the adhesive and get it to unstick."

I gently took the tiny machine from Hank, wide eyed. It was already a bit mind blowing that the man had agreed to make just one of them, the fact that he had actually went out of his way to make a spare for me had me speechless.

"There is a catch," the man spoke casually, probably guessing my thought process. General rule of thumb, anyone who was homeless for any extended period of time was wary about accepting overly kind gifts. He probably picked up on that. I glanced up at him, putting my glasses and spare reading machine into my glasses case. "You have to stay for lunch. I know it's only nine, but you can help Scott train in the meantime. He relies on my tech too much. What's the point in being able to land a bullet-strength punch if he can't land a proper punch?"

I smiled, grateful. I slipped my glasses case back into my backpack, taking out the new glass jar of tea I had prepared for Hank and handing it over. He took it with a small grin and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Wait, Hank, what?" Scott stood up suddenly, looking and sounding slightly panicked. The neat rows of ants scattered briefly before getting back under control. Scott started to follow his mentor into the kitchen. "You can't be serious, I can't fight a kid!"

"That kid can beat your ass in five seconds without breaking a sweat. Don't you read the news? Boa took down two armed traffickers by herself. She can handle you without your tech."

"But I've been training with Hope!"

"It's good to switch up training partners."

I glanced over at Hope, trying my best to ignore the none-too-quiet argument going on. "You fight?" I asked her, and she shrugged with a smirk.

"Mixed martial arts. You?" She responded. I smirked back.

"Oh this is gonna be fun. Wanna spar? I apparently have time to kill."

"Oh my god Hope is gonna kill her," Scott's terrible attempt at a whisper made its way to my ear, but Hope and I ignored it in favor of heading down to their gym. Luckily I had planned to train by myself after leaving Hank's place, so I had training gear to change into in my backpack.

It wasn't long before we were both wearing our exercise clothes, gloves and padded helmets secured. Hank and Scott stood a safe distance away to watch, the older of the two men sipping from what I could easily smell was a cup of the tea I had given him just a few minutes earlier.

I waited for a moment, watching Hope's relaxed stance carefully. My feet were spread to the width of my shoulders, and I shifted my weight slightly from foot to foot. I had more patience than Hope did, it seemed, because she attacked first. I grinned in appreciation at her speed, ducking out of the way of her first harsh punch. Instead of rising to the bait and grabbing her arm, I used the opening to dart in close and jab my knee at her gut. She twisted away, my knee just barely clipping her side instead of hitting where I had aimed. Her own kick slammed up towards my head, but I ducked under it and grabbed her ankle to flip her over me and onto her back. She was able to surge up as soon as she hit the ground, her fist jamming harshly into my gut. I ignored it, gritting my teeth against the blow as I twisted myself around (like a normal person, not like a rubber band) her limbs and pinned her onto the ground.

In the end, I had more strength than she did and she had to tap out. I groaned, rolling off her and standing up to stretch backwards with a grimace. "Damn that hurt," I groaned softly. "Alright. Who's next?"

—*—*—*—*—*

After a couple of hours of good training and a delicious lunch, Hebi left the Pym's New York house. As promised, she picked up her phone and called Matt as soon as she left the property. The phone only rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey Hebi, you're on speaker. Foggy and I are working on paperwork."

Hebi smiled, her eyes habitually scanning her surroundings and she walked. "I figured. I just left my friend's house, turns out his daughter is a mixed martial artist so I stayed a bit longer than planned to train, since he insisted on me staying for lunch."

"They know that you can fight?" Matt asked right away, sounding both interested and worried. Hebi chuckled.

"They're trustworthy. My friend already put two and two together, which means that his daughter and her boyfriend learned about it too. I'll tell you more when you get home."

Matt was silent for a short moment before responding. "Alright, I trust you. And how do you have a friend that's old enough to have a daughter capable of sparring with you?"

"He's a grouchy old man," Hebi said, her voice teasing despite Hank being nowhere within earshot. "Last year I ran into him being threatened by some goons with guns, stopped them from shoving him down a concrete staircase. They scattered pretty easily once they saw they had a witness, my friend is on the more high-profile side of things."

"High-profile..?" Foggy asked slowly from the other side of the call. "Do I even want to know how many people you have on your side?"

"You don't survive as a teenager on the streets for three years without connections, Foggy," Hebi answered cryptically, smiling mischievously since she knew how the blonde would react to that. Sure enough, Foggy's long-suffering sigh didn't take long to travel through her phone.

"Yeah, I'm better off not knowing. Good to know you were confronting armed thugs way before you met Matt, by the way. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy."

Hebi rolled my eyes at Foggy's sarcasm.

"Anyway Hebi," Matt spoke up. "How did it go? Was he able to make something for you?"

The teen hummed in affirmative, her eyes darting to a display window to see a reflection caught in it. That reflection, plus her sense of smell and her ability to sense vibrations through the ground, clued her in to something she had been suspecting for the past couple blocks. She decided to play it cool for the moment, continuing her discussion with Matt as if nothing was wrong.

"Yeah, I tested it out too. It works beautifully, I'll show you later. I'm walking towards time square, got a guy on my tail. Looks like a normal thug, probably saw me walking away away from my friend's place and thinks I have money. I'll call you when it's over."

"Hebi, be careful," Matt managed to say before the teenager hung up the phone and shoved it in her pocket. Hank had opened a New York branch of Pym Tech two years earlier, which is why he had a house she was able to visit. It also meant it wasn't too hard for the right person to see her walking into the house of a high profile rich guy, and thinking that the lithe teenager was an easy target.

Glancing in windows to gauge the guy's frame, Hebi waited until she was in a slightly busier area, yet not quite in time square yet, before casually turning into an alleyway as if she was using it for a shortcut. It didn't take long for the guy following her to take the bait and join her.

Hebi waited until the man grabbed her by the shoulder and slammed her against the wall. Her lack of reaction made the guy pause, but after a split second he raised his hand to show off the knife gripped in it.

"Okay little miss, you're gonna—"

"Kick your ass? How could you guess?" Hebi asked, smirking and wasting no time grabbing the man's wrist right behind the knife he held, and surging forward to send a knee into his crotch. He instantly screeched, dropping the knife and backing up. Hebi held the knife handle between two fingers as if it was a cigarette, not letting her fingertips touch it. "This is a dangerous toy, you should be careful or you might hurt someone," he girl chucked her knife to the side, watching it slide under a dumpster out of the corner of her eye. The man growled, clambering up and running at her. Hebi raised her brows, whistling.

"Wow, I thought you were gonna give up," she remarked idly, easily dodging his tackle. She was about to lunge in and knock him out when a blur of red registered in her peripheral vision.

 _Matt?_ Hebi thought suddenly, but furrowed her brows when she realized he wouldn't have been able to make it to her location from the office in less than ten minutes, especially if he stopped to change into his costume. So, not Matt.

The figure was astonishingly quick, leaping forward and slamming an open-handed chop to the back of the mugger's neck. Hebi was barely able to hear a few _thwips_ before white threads shot into the air, wrapping around the man and pinning his arms to his body.

That was when it registered— it was _spider-man._ Hebi blinked, staring at the surprisingly short vigilante. He was only about her height, which was odd because she had imagined him a little taller, maybe closer to Matt's height. The vigilante turned to her, the surprisingly animate eyes on his mask widening slightly in what she guessed was supposed to mimic worry.

"Are you okay, miss? Gotta hand it to you though, that was a pretty good kick," spider-man's voice was also surprisingly high, it didn't quite sound like an adult's. Hebi frowned, tilting her head slightly.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful, Spider-man, but that was a waste of your time," the teen remarked blandly. The vigilante stiffened in surprise, his blink easy to register as the eyes on his mask mimicked it.

"Uh, what?"

"I mean, I'm well versed in self defense. I even disarmed him before you showed up," Hebi explained, nodding to the mugger. "I only came into this alleyway so I could deal with him without getting anyone else involved. Don't get me wrong, it's awesome to know that you're out there making sure less people get hurt," Hebi shrugged. "But I didn't really need the help. You're better off saving people who _haven't_ spent most of their life being trained in fighting."

"Oh, uh," spider-man seemed a bit caught off guard and confused, tilting his head. "I guess that means you know the drill, right? Call nine-one-one, stay calm, all that good stuff?"

Hebi couldn't help it, she smirked. "I got it, hotshot. I get you're a bit starstruck, you don't meet capable girls like me every day," Hebi walked up and patted Spider-man's shoulder mock-reassuringly. "Go on, I'm pretty sure other people need saving. I'll be fine."

The man seemed to get that she was teasing him, and rubbed the back of his neck a bit shyly. "Ah, well, have a good day. And I wouldn't make it a habit to confront people who are following you like that."

"Yes, that's very convincing coming from someone who purposely throws himself into danger every day," Hebi remarked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Spider-man just snorted in agreement before webbing away. Hebi stared at the webbed up mugger for a moment, pulling out her phone and calling the cops. Once that phone call was over, she moved and knelt by the criminal, poking at the webbing.

"I was just wondering if I'd ever be able to get a sample of this stuff to experiment with, wasn't I?" She muttered to herself with a gleeful smirk.

—*—*—*—*—*

"Let me get this straight; _spider-man_ jumped in to save you?" Matt asked over dinner. Hebi had called him to assure him that she was alright right after everything was over, but had told him she'd give him the play-by-play later. Which happened to be at dinner, with Foggy and Karen listening in as well.

"It was pretty unnecessary," Hebi said with a shrug, shoving a forkful of fettuccine into her mouth. "I already had the guy disarmed and was about two seconds away from knocking him out when I saw a blur of red out of the corner of my eye. Obviously I paused, thinking it was you-know-who for a second, and the guy just jumps in, knocks the guy out, and webs him up like a burrito. We talked for a few seconds, the poor guy seemed so caught off guard that I wasn't scared and actually had things under control," Hebi informed them. Matt smirked slightly, Foggy snorted, and Karen just rolled her eyes before taking another bite of her food. "And of course, being the fantastic sciency mastermind I am, I took a sample of the webbing before the cops showed up to lug the guy away."

"Aha, I knew you seemed a bit too happy over the phone," Foggy remarked, shaking his fork at her in accusation. "When should we expect you to finish reverse engineering it?"

Hebi's shoulder slumped, and she legitimately pouted. Miss trained-as-an-Assassin-and-kickass-as-hell-for-a-fifteen-year-old _pouted._ She stabbed her fork into her pasta.

"Never. Or at least, not until I can get another sample or five. Naturally I ran right home after getting the sample, but as soon as I got my chemistry kit out," she meant the relatively new kit she had bought with performance money from the previous week when she was in shed and stir-crazy, "I set it down and it was completely dissolved. The slightly sticky ash left over was useless, I can't get any good information from it. So I'm back to square one— envying spider-man."

Karen leaned forward over the table towards Hebi. "Hey, don't be so sad about it. Why don't you try making something else first? I'm sure there are tons of sciency ideas in that head of yours waiting to come to life."

Hebi poked at her pasta again, thinking. She was silent for long enough that the adults went ahead and started their own conversations.

Karen had made Hebi think. There had to be projects she could start on her own, right? She didn't need to reverse engineer someone else's work, she was more than capable of coming up with her own invention. But what could she do? Where would she start?

She was in the middle of her brainstorming when another man, drunk by the scent of his breath, tripped nearby and was sent stumbling into Hebi's chair. She locked her muscles, forcing herself not to react in a way that would give away her abilities. Because of that, she fell and landed roughly on the ground next to the drunk man, the glass he had held shattered around them.

Hebi grimaced, carefully grabbing the hand Foggy was holding out to her and using it to pull herself up and away from the mess of glass shards on the ground.

"Hebi? Hebi are you okay?" Matt asked, stiff and straight in his seat. The teen dimly registered that he could probably smell the blood in the air. Then, she had to do a double take—blood? Hebi blinked, furrowing her eyebrows and raising her hand gently to her face.

"Oh, Hebi, are you alright?" Karen also asked, crouching next to Foggy with her hands gently on the younger girl's shoulder. Hebi pulled her hand away, seeing a small smear of blood on her fingers. Her face must have been cut by the glass.

"I'm fine, I should probably be looked at though. There might be tiny shards in my face," the teen reported, closing her eyes to see if she could feel anything wrong with her skin. "I don't think so though. I think I just got scraped up a bit."

"Come on, let's get you to the bathroom," Karen insisted, helping Hebi up and leading her to the restrooms in the back of the restaurant.

Looking in the mirror, Hebi found the damage was slightly worse than expected but still not an issue. There were four tiny cuts littered across her forehead and left cheek, with one longer one on her right cheek. None of them were deep, they'd scab over in a few minutes and probably completely heal in just a couple days.

Hebi let Karen gently dab at her face with a wet paper towel, her epiphany making her reaction time a bit slower than normal.

Her blood. Hebi had special abilities because of how her blood was altered. Hadn't she told Matt, way back when they first met two months earlier, that she wanted to find a way to temporarily give people different animal attributes to aid in healing or other things? Maybe she could start on that, even if she was only going into her sophomore year of high school.

And she knew exactly where she could begin.

Her hazel eyes lingered on the small smear of blood on her fingers.

—*—*—*—*—*

"You sure you're okay for patrol?" Matt asked, already dressed in his costume with his mask pulled down over his face. Hebi was already mostly in her own outfit, her mask loosely clutched in her hand. She scoffed.

"Yeah. I was a bit caught up with ideas for experiments, a few papercuts weren't enough to wake me up from my science coma," she told him easily, turning to look at herself in the mirror. Her cuts were already scabbed over like she had predicted, the smaller ones well on their way to fading. She looked down, taking in her appearance in her costume for the first time. She had only laid eyes on it once before, and then she went into shed. This was the first time she was able to see herself actually wearing it.

The costume was mostly black and dark green, worked into a slightly scaled design all over. The design actually helped distribute more protection over the design while still allowing for flexibility. The green was spread over the black in small splotches, almost like camouflage — or like a snake's pattern. There were two hidden pockets on the hips, just big enough to fit her burner phone (that she had bought with leftover performance money after buying the chemistry kit) and any other small item she might need to keep in there.

Hebi then slipped on her mask, which covered her neck and her whole head, hiding all of her hair, but exposed the lower half of her face. The large two-way lenses were slightly yellow tinted, and softly slipped upwards into a small point. It was like a cross between Bratz eyes and a much less dramatic version of Spider-man's lenses. Like the web motif on Spider-Man's costume, Hebi's scale motif covered her mask as well. Her costume was only solid black under her arms and down her sides, the black ending over her hips where her pockets were.

"Alright, let's go," Matt had slipped into his Daredevil voice, all gravelly and probably an absolute horror on the throat. He tilted his head suddenly, taking a small sniff. "Are you wearing _lipstick?"_

"It disguises my lip shape," Hebi defended, walking out to him. "You can never be too careful. And honestly, when else will I have the chance to wear extremely dark green lipstick?"

Matt just shook his head, opening the window and letting Hebi get out first.

"Okay, so you know what the main goal is tonight," Matt started telling her softly. "We got rid of most of the group back when they kidnapped you. I finally managed to track down the three leaders, they'll be trying to hire new people today closer to the docks. Got it?"

"If we run into any crime on the way, I'll take care of it and follow your scent to catch up when I'm done," Hebi recited what he had decided with her the previous day. She knew it was mostly because he didn't want her to have to face the people who tortured her again, but she didn't mind. She'd let him be overprotective in this case, she'd make sure she was there anyway. "The guys will probably strike out again, everyone they've been hiring so far has been taken down by you. People will not be very enthusiastic about joining a group that has the Devil's eyes on them so closely. You know, proverbially anyway."

"Hebi," Matt warned, but she could tell he was trying not to smirk. Blind jokes were their thing.

"You do realize that if I make any friends in school and you meet them, the whole 'Justice is blind' thing is going to be the first thing I say about you, right?"

Daredevil just grunted, fully in Vigilante mode and not nearly as laid back as Matthew Murdock. But Hebi had enough flexibility for both of them— both in the _bend over backwards and flip a guy over her head with her feet_ way and in the _I can be carefree while I'm kicking a criminal's ass_ way.

Half an hour later, Hebi found herself alone in an alleyway with three robbers and a terrified teenage couple beat up but conscious on the ground. One boy was holding the other carefully, both of the boys watching with wide eyes as Hebi slammed her foot into the nose of one of their attackers, followed by her fist in his windpipe. With him momentarily down, she turned and blocked a punch from one man as the last attacker tried to slice at her with a knife. She was about to slam her hand into his wrist to make him drop the blade, but an already-familiar string of webbing caught his hand before she could.

"This is really close to Central Park, aren't you Daredevil's sidekick or something? Shouldn't you be in Hell's Kitchen?" The voice of Spider-man asked as the red and blue vigilante jumped down and landed a solid kick to the chest of the guy whose wrist he had webbed. Hebi huffed in slight annoyance, landing three quick punches to her guy's chest and abdomen before slamming her palm into his face. He went down hard, and Hebi turned to the guy whose nose she had broken to land a kick to the back of his head that knocked him out.

"I'm not his sidekick. I'm his nanny," Hebi replied, keeping her voice a little softer than usual to try and mask it a little more casually than Matt and his gravel voice. "Daredevil has no self preservation, I need to be there to cover him and make sure he doesn't get himself killed. Also, I had this covered," She shook her head, taking a phone off of one robber before walking over to the two victims. "I'm gonna call nine-one-one for you, okay? I need you to stay calm, you're safe now," Hebi turned her head at the sound of _thwip thwip thwip_ to see all three robbers cocooned in Spider-man's webbing. Steaming with slight jealousy, she dialed the emergency number and handed it to one boyfriend before standing up. Spider-man still hadn't left.

"Well?" Hebi asked, tilting her head at him. He shrugged.

"Still wondering what you're doing out this far. Maybe something big that you could use help with?"

Hebi felt her shoulders stiffen. " _No,"_ She said forcefully, stepping closer to him so that the victims wouldn't hear and get nervous again. She lowered her voice. "Hell no. Stay in Times square or over in Queens. You're strong, don't get me wrong, but you obviously don't have much formal combat training. Besides, this is personal," She clenched her jaw. "We're gonna wrap up the last of the Dryads, a group of kidnappers and mad scientists that experiment on orphaned kids," Spider-man's shock and disgust was nearly palpable. The guy had to learn to hide his emotions better, there was something seriously wrong when he was easy to read even though he had a full-face mask on. "I only hung back to take care of these guys. If you wanna help, make sure the crimes in this area are taken care of so that I don't get slowed down again. I have to catch up to double-D."

She turned, but Spider-man's hand on her shoulder stopped her for a second. "How personal?" He asked softly. She shook her head.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answered, Spidey," Hebi took that moment to slip out of his grip and run off, hopping between alley walls to get back onto the rooftops, where she then proceeded to follow Matt's scent to a smaller set of docks than the ones she had been taken to before.

Hebi could only reach the last rooftop before the docks, and growled in frustration at the sight of police lights. It looked like Matt got his wish after all; she only got a glimpse of the three balls of slime being herded into police cars, and none of the satisfaction of loading them with bruises.

Damn.

She decided to chalk half the blame on Spider-Man for stalling her with his chatter.

— ***—*—*—*—***

**Another mess? Yeah. Should I even keep writing this? Maybe it will get better once she starts the School arc. I guess. We'll see. Blehhhh. Are you guys even enjoying this?**

**See you next chapter~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Push the MCU timeline back by a year/ year and a half and you have the general timeline of this story. I’m making changes with what happened regarding Civil War, and Infinity War is nonexistent right now, so. Don’t worry about that.

**Hahahahahah new perspective. This is where some of the fanon and stuff comes in. You'll see it right away, so I'll just shut up now.**

**This didn't turn out quite as good as I wanted, but oh fucking well.**

— ***—*—*—*—***

Peter frowned, it was in the middle of the day after he had met two very confusing girls. Women? One girl and one woman? Didn't matter. Females. Two confusing females.

The first one was roughly twenty-four hours earlier, give or take an hour or two, and Peter could honestly say it was the first time he had ever been told that trying to help stop a mugging was a waste of his time. But otherwise, it was a pretty normal confrontation— for Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. It almost sounded like a conversation Peter would have with MJ. He just didn't have many normal interactions with people his own age while in the suit, so the moment stuck in his head.

But then there was the more worrying confrontation that came late that night— Boa. The new vigilante, who Peter now knew was a female and not a male like a lot of people seemed to think.

The conversation he had with Boa just brought up a lot of questions and concerns in the young hero. First of all, how similar was she to Daredevil and how did she learn to fight? Daredevil didn't kill, but he was a little too violent for Peter's tastes. Was Boa the same way? Her fighting style— what little Peter got to see of it— was pretty well refined. It reminded him of Natasha's fighting style a bit. Precise, strong, calculated, and ruthless. But it was also different, there were strikes he knew had to have come from a different source than the rest. Strikes that reminded him of boxing, simple but effective and intuitive. And she was fast. That kind of fighting wasn't taught in self defense schools, neither of the styles he saw. They were advanced, too advanced to have been learned from anyone average.

And secondly, the organization named Dryad stuck in Peter's head. Boa might not have clarified anything, but his gut told him that _personal_ meant it happened to her. Boa was most likely one of the kids Dryad had experimented on— so that brought up the question of how old of an organization they were, and if the guys Daredevil brought down were really the last of it.

Of course, Peter had spent the entire morning using all of his hacking skills to try and scrounge up data, but he wasn't familiar with the right places to look. His family claimed he was too pure to find out certain things, no matter how much of a genius he was. He always hated when they said that, but found himself having to begrudgingly agree in this case. He couldn't figure out where to look, but he knew who to ask.

The teen hopped off his bed, putting his Stark laptop on his bedside table.

"FRIDAY, do you know where Aunt Nat is?" He asked, grabbing his phone from his pillow. It had taken him a while to get used to the voice in the walls, but after living in Avengers Tower for two years he had grown used to having the AI around. Calling the Avengers "Aunt" or "Uncle" had taken longer than getting used to FRIDAY, calling Tony Stark "Dad," had only happened a few months earlier.

"Miss Romanov is currently headed to the common room. Do you wish for me to call her for you?"

"No, no," Peter hurriedly shook his head, already going to his door. "I'll go up to her, just ask her to wait for me."

"Sure thing, Peter."

"Thanks FRI," Peter said as he got into the elevator, which moved without him even having to voice where to go. FRIDAY already knew, after all. Natasha Romanov, AKA the Black Widow, was sat at the counter with a cup of juice when Peter walked in. He didn't need Nat to be looking at him to know she noticed his arrival— she noticed everything.

"What's up, baby spider?" She greeted with a grin. "Do you still want me to train you?"

Oh, right. He had asked Nat to start training him when he got home from patrol the previous night, still sore that Boa could instantly tell he hadn't had much professional training.

"Well yeah, but that's not why I wanted you to wait for me. I, uh," Peter sat down on the stool next to her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Something Boa said last night has been bothering me. She mentioned some group named Dryad, apparently the three guys Daredevil nabbed last night were their leaders. She was really worked up about it. Said that they're a group that kidnaps and experiments on orphans," as usual Nat's face was stoic, but the corner of her lips slightly turned down. "I think it was pretty personal to her. I wanted to make sure they were gone, you know, completely. But I can't find anything."

The Russian hummed in understanding, taking a sip from her cup. "I've heard of them, but I never really put much effort into learning anything. I can put out my feelers if you want, мой маленький паук," not a second after saying that, one of the vent guards flew from its place on the wall, and a familiar head peeked out of the vent.

"Don't bother, Nat. I know about those guys," Hawkeye said as he swung himself out of the vents and landed nimbly on the floor. "Morning, Petey boy."

"It's afternoon, Uncle Clint," Peter reminded the older man, eyebrows furrowed. The assassin shrugged, walking over and opening the fridge to root through it.

"Dryad's a pretty scummy group," Clint's voice was cheerful despite the information coming out of his mouth. "A wannabe red-room, which is why I kept them off Nat's radar or they all would have shown up dead a long time ago," the room grew a few degrees colder, courtesy of the readheaded assassin after that bit of info made it to her ears. Hawkeye pretended not to notice, closing the fridge door with a pudding cup firmly in his grasp. "Worse, they considered themselves scientific innovators. Wanted to make a new type of supersoldier and merge it with assassin training, like a unique sideshow version of our resident Robo Cop,"

"Uncle Bucky hates it when you call him that," Peter interrupted, frowning disapprovingly. The archer just shrugged, opening his pudding cup and digging a newly acquired spoon into it.

"They were slippery as hell. I was gonna track them down to get rid of them in a more humane way than Nat would have, but I got distracted by New York and Loki. I probably wouldn't have remembered the group if you didn't bring them up. You said this Devil of Hell's Kitchen caught the leaders?"

Pete nodded. "She said it was personal and didn't want me getting involved because, and I quote: 'it's obvious you don't have much formal combat training,' before she ditched me."

"Ah," The archer nodded, swallowing his mouthful of pudding. "That's why you asked me and Nat to train you. Well, only one kid survived their experiments the last time I checked. Based on what they were doing, I doubt they got another survivor. But if Boa is that girl, then you should probably stay away," Clint's eyes went hard all of a sudden. "Even if she escaped and managed to make herself into a vigilante, you should still think of her as a knockoff version of Natasha," he nodded to the steely redhead, who was tightly clutching her cup of juice. "It'll take a long time before she can get rid of the assassin's mindset Dryad doubtlessly drilled into her. And she's probably twenty, at the oldest. Dealing with that kind of trauma isn't going to be a cakewalk, especially when she's so young."

"Maybe I should look into this Boa," Natasha mused out loud, her body completely relaxed now and no longer showing even the tiniest hint of emotion that would give away what was going on in her head. "We don't know much about Daredevil anyway, and if she managed to run away from Dryad then she probably didn't complete whatever training they were giving her. I might be able to learn something about the guy," she sipped her juice. "Of course, I'll also be able to make sure she isn't an immediate threat. We don't know what kind of person she is yet. For all we know, she could actually be Daredevil's newest enemy instead of the sidekick we think she is. It wouldn't be hard to make it look like they were fighting together instead of with each other."

"She tried to keep me from getting hurt, and we met when she was already busy beating up muggers. She even called herself Daredevil's nanny," Peter argued, frowning. "I don't think they're enemies, and I don't think she's someone we should be looking at like a villain."

"Peter," Clint started, eyebrows drawn down. "You can't know—"

"My Spidey Sense never went off around her. Not even once," he insisted, adamant on his point. "I just want to make sure Dryad is completely finished. If they did experiment on Boa, then more members coming out of the shadows isn't going to do her any good. She needs to know that they are _gone."_

The silence stretched.

—*—*—*—*—*

_A month later_

"Okay, we've had enough time with the punching bags. Ready for the ring?" Matt asked, his hand casually flat against the side of the bag he had been using. I finished up the kick I had already begun, then stopped the bag's swinging and nodded. Saturday sparring and training was probably my favorite part of the week. Despite the trauma that came along with Dryad kidnapping me and whatnot, even I had to admit that fighting was something I was meant to do. Just like dancing or science, I felt as if I was doing exactly what I was meant to do when I fought. I could tell Matt felt the same way.

Still, after the first few Saturday Gym Days, I had worked up a healthy respect for Matt and a deep sympathy for anyone who had to actually face him as Daredevil.

"I guess. But be careful, will you? Just because you can't see my bruising doesn't mean people won't try to file child abuse against you because of it," I quipped, both terrified and thrumming with excited energy at the prospect of fighting him again. Matt's mouth quirked up in a smile.

"Maybe you should dodge better then," he snarked right back easily. "Fighting a poor, defenseless—"

"Don't you dare," I pointed my finger at him, but didn't bother trying to hide my grin. "Defenseless blind guy, my ass," Matt laughed unashamedly as I walked by his side until we reached the boxing ring, the both of us climbing up into it. "Okay, rules for the spar?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

"None," he answered, rolling his shoulders. "I want a challenge for now."

"Asshole," I hissed fondly, getting into position. Taking a deep breath, I forced my body to settle down. Releasing my breath, I felt my heartbeat settle into a calm rhythm. I kept my eyes on Matt's whole body, my mouth slightly open and all my available senses as focused as possible. I knew from experience that my ears would offer very little help, but it was always good to have my hearing focused anyway.

I made the first attack. Usually I waited for Matt, but the both of us had seemingly endless pools of patience when it came to combat so I decided to make the first move this time around. My reaction and strike speeds were faster than his, and I took full advantage of that as I slammed force into my big toes that sent me hurtling forward. I knew from experience that my strikes and lunges like that were hard to follow with the naked eye, but Matt didn't have that problem. Able to sense my attack easily, he danced out of my path with aggravating ease and used his left arm to block my accompanying kick. I never used my super strength against him when it came to actual strikes, since I obviously didn't want to break any of this bones or anything.

Having as little continuous contact with the ground was the best strategy I had been able to come up with for fighting Matt. It still ended in me losing every time, but limiting the vibrations of my movements that he could feel through the ground meant that I could last longer against him. Unfortunately, it also meant that I couldn't sense those same vibrations very often from him that could help me block or find openings so I knew my strategy needed adjustment.

My training before Matt had been completely assassination oriented, but those tactics were useless against him. He could sense any and all of my attacks the second I began them, no matter where I was or what I was planning. Projectiles? Though I hadn't shot at him for obvious reasons, he could dodge anything I threw easily. The darkness offered no advantage whatsoever, and even my painfully silent movements were more than loud enough for him to pick up on. He had to teach me, little by little, his own style so that I could have an arsenal of moves to use not only against him, but also for crowd control purposes. I learned fighting techniques to allow me to take down four or five or more enemies so that I wasn't as easily overwhelmed when outnumbered anymore.

A solid fist met my torso, sending me skidding back several feet. I took a sharp breath, but shrugged off the sharp ache and rushed back in.

"Wait," Matt called out, making me pause in the middle of a new strike. His brows were furrowed. "I hit you right in your diaphragm, but you didn't gasp for breath or anything. That hit should have stopped you completely," he informed me, confused. I blinked.

"Really? I mean, it hurt like hell and I definitely lost my breath, but…" I knew exactly what a hit to the diaphragm like that _should_ have done. It was a very basic weak point strike I had been taught long before even meeting Matt.

"I know, I heard the air leave your lungs," Matt confirmed, crossing his arms. "But the little breath you took shouldn't have been enough for you to completely recover. It doesn't make sense."

I frowned, thinking back on all of my previous fights to see if there was an explanation. "Well…" I started slowly. "Come to think of it, I don't get short of breath really. I had mild asthma before the whole Dryad thing, but ever since the experiments I've had no problem with shortness of breath. Even after running or exercising for a long time," the answer suddenly came to me, making me blink. "Snake DNA."

"I'm sorry, what?" Matt asked, my sudden remark catching him a little off guard. "I'm not an expert in biology, what about snake DNA? Is it an ability you didn't realize you got from it?"

"Snakes have an extremely low oxygen requirement," I explained. "That's why herpetologists say never to behead a snake, because they'll stay alive for so long afterwards due to that low oxygen requirement that it's inhumane. Snakes can survive in closed boxes and even underwater for surprising amounts of time because they don't need to breath as often as humans," I was smiling, Biology and the excitement of a possible new ability making me giddy. "I've never tested my ability to hold my breath, actually. Not that I can remember anyway, they might have done it back during experiments but I've suppressed most of those memories."

Matt shrugged, ignoring my probably concerning nonchalance regarding my torture and memory suppression. "Let's test it out now, then. If you ever have to swim to rescue somebody or somebody tries using gas against you, it could be important to know your limit."

I nodded eagerly, walking over and sitting only a couple feet across from him. I crossed my legs and sat as if I was going to meditate, which I had also been taught by Dryad but Matt had gotten me into again for more healthy reasons. I exhaled for a long moment, getting rid of every bit of air from my lungs that I could for accuracy's sake. Matt nodded when he could hear no more air, and I took a normal deep breath and held it.

I slipped into meditation as I held my breath, closing my eyes. Paying too much attention to myself would make it harder to continue holding my breath, so I cleared my mind and left it up to my body to warn me when I needed to take a new breath.

I lost track of time meditating. The next thing I was aware of, my lungs were starting to lightly burn. It wasn't too bad, so I didn't react. A short while later I could not longer ignore the discomfort, and let loose my air in a _whoosh._ The fresh oxygen I took in felt and tasted sweet, instantly soothing my body. I opened my eyes to see Matt's reaction.

My gua— _father_ , the paperwork had gone through and he had officially adopted me two weeks earlier— had his red eyebrows raised high on his face. His thumb clicked down on a button he had on his phone, and a mechanical voice spoke into the air:

"Twenty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds."

"So closer to twenty-two minutes even, since I took too long to stop the timer," Matt finally spoke. "But, still. That's amazing. What about when your lungs aren't completely full?"

I shrugged. "I can test that on my own, you'll probably get bored with all this experimentation stuff," really, I just wanted to do so many trials that I knew he would get frustrated with how tedious it was by the end. "I'll tell you the results though. Ooh, I can swim all secretly under the water for stealth missions," I was bouncing excitedly from my spot sitting in the middle of the ring with Matt.

"You're a vigilante, not a spy Hebi," Matt's dry comment was balanced by the humor shown in the grin on his face and the slight cock of his eyebrow. "Honestly. Missions?"

"Name's Murdock. Teal-Murdock. Hebi Teal— Okay it just doesn't work. I can't do the whole Bond thing with a name that long," I whined with a pout that Matt couldn't see. He chuckled all the same, probably just from the sheer absurdity of my tone of voice. But, without mercy, he stood up and placed his phone on a chair where it was out of harm's way again.

"Okay, now that our curiosity is sated. Your reaction time might be superhuman, but you need to get better with your stamina. Taking down two people in less than two seconds isn't going to do anything if you're too worn out afterwards to keep protecting yourself."

My stamina wasn't _that_ bad, but his exaggeration got the point across nonetheless.

"Crowd control training then?" I asked almost rhetorically, knowing that it was the one that tested my stamina and endurance the most. Matt nodded.

"After one more no-holds-barred spar. We didn't finish the last one."

Part of me was very happy he couldn't see the predatory smile that took over my face at that declaration. Maybe I liked fighting a bit too much. Even if Matt always handed me my ass.

"I'll try not to bruise you too much since you have the first day of school on Monday," he teased. The reminder sent a thrill of nervous and excited energy through me, making me slightly jittery.

"Careful," I replied without the predatory smile fading away from my face even the slightest. "Adrenaline might give me an advantage."

"Good, maybe you'll finally give me a run for my money then."

"You're such a jerk."

—*—*—*—*—*

Hebi could only be happy that her shed cycle did not overlap with the first week of school. She wanted to be able to take in all the sights right away and not have to flounder around trying to find rooms in an unfamiliar environment while blind. So, she was pretty happy when she walked up to the campus alongside Matt early that Monday morning able to take in the sight of her new school without issue.

"You have your hearing aids, right?" Matt asked casually, even though he could probably sense the small items resting in the teen's pockets. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow and hoping her attitude could somehow be tangibly felt. He picked up on it regardless, smirking at her. He had strong armed her into getting some back when he had adopted her officially, and she agreed only so that she had proof of a disability that she could use as an excuse if her abilities made her behave oddly during school hours. She hated the fact that she needed what she felt was a handicap, and Matt understood that sentiment so intimately that he made sure not to bring up the devices unless necessary.

Taking the hint, Hebi slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the small case holding the hearing aids. Quickly, as if to try and forget about them, she pushed the devices into her ear and shoved the case back into her pocket where it could remain unseen.

"You know, those things typically work best when they're turned on," Matt said, voice once again painfully casual. He knew how hard it was for Hebi to even so much as put the aids in, let alone actually use them. He could feel her whole body slightly sag as she sighed, then raised a hand up to turn on the devices and dial them up to the proper volume.

Feeling like she needed some extra encouragement after that, Matt put a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "It'll take some getting used to, but try okay? You can turn them off if things get too loud. I know how overwhelming school was for me after the accident."

Hebi wrinkled her nose. "Okay. The smells will be the worst thing I think, but I lived on the New York streets so I can deal. I think. Probably. I'll call you if I get overwhelmed," _maybe_ , she added silently to herself. She didn't want to bother him during work if it wasn't necessary. He patted her shoulder.

"Okay. Text foggy during lunch, I don't want you calling unless it's really an emergency but I still want an update or two on how you're doing. Call me when school's out so I can meet you halfway home if I can."

"Such a dad," Hebi teased, feeling light and weightless and happy for a dangerous moment. He had the tendency to make her feel like that, despite how ingrained it was in her to fear joy like that since she knew from experience that it made the bad things that would inevitably happen next that much less bearable. "Go to work, you got paperwork and meetings waiting for you."

Matt nodded, then took his cane and extended it since he was going to be walking without someone "leading" him now, and walked off after one last goodbye.

Looking at her new school again, Hebi took a deep breath and walked up with her hands tightly clutching her backpack straps in front of her shoulders.

It was obvious people knew she was new, as she got many looks as she walked through the hallways. It was a magnet school after all, it didn't get many new students since it had strict guidelines for enrollment and who was or wasn't allowed to apply for attendance. Thankfully, most people seemed to shrug her off as a freshman so the looks didn't linger very long.

Having had the usual breakfast at home, Hebi stopped at a bench instead of the cafeteria to pull out her schedule. No harm in getting to her first class a little early, after all, especially since she didn't know the layout of the building yet.

Eyes scanning over the campus map and her schedule, she made her way slowly towards her first class of the day. English. Easy enough to start with.

She pulled up to the right door only to see that the room was dark on the other side, which made her frown. The teacher wasn't there yet. She turned around, deciding to just sit by the door and wait, only to stiffen in surprise at the sight of three people behind her, staring at her. The two boys looked confused, and the sole girl amongst them looked slightly interested but mostly bored.

"Um, do you need help finding your room? This is a sophomore level class," the tall, skinny boy of the trio asked awkwardly. Hebi blinked, and then rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Ah. Actually, I _am_ a sophomore," Hebi replied, suddenly not as confident as she usually was now that she was around people her own age. All three of them raised their eyebrows.

"Oh, wow. You must have had to jump through some serious hoops to enroll after your Freshman year," the shorter, chubby boy pitched in his thoughts. He got an elbow in the gut from his friend for his phrasing. Something about that attitude, though, made a few knots in Hebi relax and she chuckled.

"I sure did. I'm Hebi, Hebi Teal," she introduced herself, barely remembering in time that normal teenagers didn't typically shake hands when introducing themselves. Matt and Hebi had agreed to keep her last name as just "Teal," at school, since Murdock was a bit of a high profile name after Fisk's takedown and it would keep Hebi safer at school to leave it out for the time being.

"Michelle," the girl introduced herself casually, nodding her head in greeting before sitting down on the floor near the door and proceeding to ignore the three of them in favor of reading the book she had. Hebi raised an eyebrow in good humor, smirking at the boys.

"She always like that?" Hebi asked, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. It made the boys in front of her smile, and they nodded.

"Yeah, don't worry about her. I'm Peter, and this is Ned. Um, wanna sit with us until the teacher gets here? I mean, I totally understand if you don't but I just thought—"

Sensing that the boy's rapid-fire speech wasn't going to stop anytime soon unless she stopped it for him, Hebi just smiled. "Yeah sure, that sounds great. I don't really know anybody yet, obviously," she was slightly distracted as she moved to sit with them as they sat down on the floor by the door together. Peter smelled familiar, but Hebi couldn't place why. It had been a whole month since she had seen Spider-Man, in or out of her own costume, though, so she couldn't be blamed for shrugging it off and thinking that she had probably just run into him on the street or something.

Peter, on the other hand, had recognized her immediately as that girl from the alleyway that had called his trying to save her a waste of his time. Barely able to believe his own crazy luck, he found himself wanting to talk to her. So far she didn't give off the same badass vibes she had back when she had fought off her own mugger, but as he asked her casual (he tried at casual anyway) questions about the kind of science she liked most, he gradually saw that personality come out as she got more and more comfortable around him and his friends.

"I mean, what if you took a reptile's smaller oxygen requirement and isolated the DNA compounds that made it possible? Theoretically, you could use that to help asthmatics and the need for inhalers would drop drastically," She was ranting, the confidence Peter remembered from the month before suddenly present in her voice and eyes. Ned and Peter, as fellow nerds, were absorbed in every word she said. Peter more so than Ned though, since Ned was more techy and Peter was more Biology-and-chemistry oriented like Hebi herself.

"Don't you think spiders have more potential though?" Michelle asked casually, her smug glance at Peter making the poor guy squirm. Hebi, not suspecting anything, groaned in dismay, making all three of her new friends raise their eyebrows.

"What? Don't like spiders?" Ned asked, smirking at Peter almost the same way Michelle had. Hebi wrinkled her nose, then glanced around to make sure nobody was in earshot. She leaned forward so they could hear her as she spoke softly to them.

"Okay, you can't tell anyone about this—they probably wouldn't believe the story anyway— but I met spider-man like a month ago," Ned and Peter's eyes widened comically, and Michelle raised her eyebrows. Hebi missed the amusement that filled the other girl's eyes to the brim. "This guy was gonna try to mug me, and Spider-Man showed up—"

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" Ned asked, forcing Hebi and Peter to shush him immediately. He shrunk back a bit, but repeated; "Well? He didn't hurt you, did he, the mugger?"

Hebi scoffed. "Yeah right, the guy was an amateur. I've learned self defense since I was little, and had the guy disarmed and almost taken down before Spider-Man even showed up. He didn't need to, really, but he webbed the guy up and I teased him about the fact that I hadn't needed the help. Anyway, not the point," Hebi waved her hand to show that the attack itself wasn't what she had brought the topic up for. "Anyway, I've been jealous of the guy pretty much since he showed up. I mean, he created accurate synthetic spider webbing when scientists have been trying and failing to do that very thing for decades? What the hell? The medical applications, if the formula can be adapted, are ridiculous," Hebi ran a hand through her short hair. "So I took a sample off the mugger before the cops got there. But the stupid thing dissolved before I could examine it, do you have any idea how _frustrating_ that was?!"

"No, I can't even imagine. Can you imagine, Pete?" Ned asked his friend, a smile nearly splitting his face in half even as he tried his hardest to keep a poker face (obviously didn't work). Peter, eyes wide and frantic with panic, shook his head even as he tried to telepathically communicate to Ned to shut up (that didn't work either).

"N-n-nope! Can't imagine it at all! What were you saying about blood examination, Hebi? That was really fascinating. Oh look, here comes Mrs. Phillips!"

Hebi, thoroughly confused and not at all oblivious to their awkwardness (she _was_ a trained assassin, despite the fact that she wasn't purposely trying to analyze anyone at the moment and was trying very hard to be normal), looked over at Michelle as Peter and Ned hurriedly got up to greet the teacher.

"Are they always that jumpy? Do they not like Spider-Man or something?" Hebi asked, feeling like she was missing something huge. Michelle just snorted, closing her book and standing up.

"Nah, they're just losers like that. You get used to it."

"Uh, Okay then," Hebi agreed with a shrug. She hadn't interacted with people her own age for more than five minutes in _years_ , so nobody could blame her for shrugging off the behavior as nothing too odd. After all, she was probably the worst person to try and decide how normal teenagers should act. She ran an online store that sold homemade tea blends, performed on the street on weekends for fun, was a vigilante at night, and had PTSD because of being experimented on and trained to be a child assassin for a chunk of her childhood. So.

Oh yeah, and there was the whole used-to-be-homeless thing too.

Resolving to try and figure the boys out some other time, Hebi stood up and followed her new friends and teacher into her first class of the day. Not wanting to give up the small bit of comfort she had gained from the three other teens, she sat close to them at the back of the room. Really, that meant that she sat on Peter's right while Ned was on his left and Michelle sat behind them.

Yeah, Hebi actually let Michelle sit behind her despite her training yelling at her to get her back to a wall for safety reasons. She was really out of her element.

At least she sat right against the window and had a very clear view of the door.

The room was mostly filled within the next handful of minutes, but even dealing with the onslaught of scents and heat signatures couldn't blind Hebi to the way Peter twitched at the next boy to enter the class. Watching her new friend out of the corner of her eye, Hebi observed as the new boy walked straight over to sit in front of them, wasting no time after dropping his backpack to the floor before turning to face them.

The sneer on his face did nothing to endear him to Hebi.

"Hey new girl. You probably don't know this, but you don't wanna sit next to Penis Parker. His Lame is contagious."

Hebi raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. Normal social interaction she was hopeless at, but this? Dealing with a bully? Not so much.

"At least he has an IQ above thirty, so far you have me doubting that you do," Hebi drawled lazily, not missing a beat. "And honestly? Lame? Maybe I should help you out with your insults. That is, if you have time after school that isn't taken up by tutoring. Maybe I should teach you manners while I'm at it— Hi, my name is Hebi. What's your name, so I know what to put down on my Shit List."

The boy's face was rapidly growing red. Hebi dimly wondered if human heads could explode from a buildup of anger and embarrassment. Next to her, Peter and Ned were simultaneously sputtering and trying very hard not to laugh. Michelle didn't bother trying to hide anything, she snickered unrepentantly.

"Flash," he bit out angrily. "But it won't matter, you'll forget it once I hit you over the head," he raised his arm, ignoring the way Ned's face was growing exceedingly more smug and Peter was frantically shaking his head and trying to warn Flash about his impending doom. Deciding not to make the scene the boys clearly expected her to, though, Hebi just smirked.

"Oh please, go right ahead. I'm sure beating up someone with a disability will make you look _real cool,"_ Hebi's voice dripped with sarcasm at the end of that sentence, what she said making Flash pause. Deciding to make her point, Hebi reached into one ear and pulled out a hearing aid, displaying it to Flash. She might have hated the damn things, but she wasn't about to show weakness in front of Flash. At least this way, the aids could actually serve her a purpose she was comfortable with. "Of course, you could always finish that swing and get _beat up_ by someone with a disability in less than five seconds flat, but that's up to you."

The teacher clearing her throat at the front of the room made Flash's choice for him, and he grumbled but turned around and took his seat. Hebi probably shouldn't have, but she felt very smug. Ned and Peter's wide-eyed gazes on her made her preen a little bit.

"You can call me MJ," Michelle said from behind Hebi, who couldn't hold back a smile at the implication behind that deceptively simple declaration.

"Alright everybody," the teacher at the front of the class drew the attention to herself as the bell went off to signal the start of the period. "As some of you have already seen, we have a new sophomore joining you guys. Treat her well. Introduce yourself please," the teacher said, nodding towards Hebi. The girl nodded, standing up and trying very hard to hide her awkwardness. Thankfully, poker faces were taught in Assassin 101.

"Hey. I'm Hebi, and yes I have purple hearing aids in. No, I'm not deaf, yes I can hear you whispering about me over there because the aids are _on_ and I am not an idiot," Hebi pointedly glared at the girl at the front of the class who had been whispering about her none too nicely. Or quietly. That girl sucked at whispering, actually. "And yes, I know sign language," she used her hands to sign along with that last declaration. Figuring she had answered the most likely questions, she nodded and sat back down. The teacher blinked, raising an eyebrow at the girl's attitude but ultimately shrugging it off and turning to start droning on about what they could expect to do throughout the year in that class.

"Dude, you are so cool!" Ned whispered loudly, leaning over his desk to look at Hebi around Peter. Hebi snorted, smiling at the hyper boy. "You told off Flash and made having a disability look cool. How bad is your hearing anyway if you're not deaf?"

Normally Hebi would have been annoyed, but Med was asking so innocently that she actually found herself holding back laughter at his questions.

"I'm about halfway to being deaf, maybe a bit more," Hebi answered softly, marveling at the fact that she could actually still hear herself despite her voice being so low. Having hearing aids was so _weird._ "Normally if I'm whispering like this, I wouldn't be able to hear myself. If I turn the aids off or don't have them in for some reason, don't sneak up behind me. I might punch you in your throat."

Ned and Peter's hands instantly flew to their necks, and they grimaced. MJ, behind them, gave an approving hum.

"Hey, I know this is going to sound weird," Peter said after class as the four of them walked through the hallways. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "But, uh, I think it's cool that you have hearing aids. Or, well, shit that makes me sound mean. I mean that it's cool. Or fine..? I sound insensitive, don't I? What I want to say is that one of my uncles is deaf and he's, like, one of the most badass people I know. He's also incredibly immature but he and I prank the rest of my family sometimes, it's great. And I know sign language because of him so if you want someone to talk to—"

Taking pity on the poor rambling teen, Hebi chuckled and awkwardly patted Peter's shoulder. "Thanks. I'm glad you don't treat me like I'm glass. The most badass person I know is blind, and he hates it when people treat him like he isn't capable of taking care of himself. I'm the same way, treat me like you'd treat your uncle. You seem to like him a lot."

Peter nodded excitedly. "He's super cool. His eyesight is perfect, he has, like, almost superhuman aim. It's crazy."

Hebi chuckled, surprised at how relaxed he, Ned, and MJ had already made her.

"Ooh! Let's compare schedules, your class might not even be in this direction!" Ned spoke up suddenly, pulling a crumpled piece of paper form his pocket hurriedly. Hebi winced, having not thought about that.

"Shit, you're right. Here," she handed her own schedule off to Peter and Ned, whose eyes scanned the paper quickly. Peter was the first to relax.

"Man, What luck!" Peter smiled widely. Hebi wondered to herself if he had ever blinded anyone with that bright smile. Huh. Man blinded by bright smile, gains superhuman sensitivity to Peter Parkers. Hebi had to hold back a snort at her ridiculous thought process. "You have most of your classes with me and Ned, and you have MJ in the two you don't have with us."

Hebi felt a grin tugging at her lips. "That is some luck," she agreed. Maybe the stuff she was going to learn wasn't the only thing she had to look forward to at school. Apparently she hadn't lost the ability to make friends, even though she thought she had.

—*—*—*—*—*

"You shorted out the robotic arm by touching it…" Peter said slowly, confusion all over his face. The four of us, me, Peter, Ned, and MJ, we're sitting together at a mostly empty table eating lunch. Matt had decided to mother hen, and had not only bought a Japanese lunch box— bento— but had actually filled it with a modern Japanese lunch. Because I was fifty percent Japanese and apparently he wanted me to have memories of that heritage not related to my evil father.

It was delicious.

Ned was trying his hardest not to laugh, and MJ had amusement all over her face. I was trying very hard not to cut my piece of omelette in half with my chopsticks.

"Yes, Peter, that is what happened."

"It wasn't even _on,"_ he continued, still baffled. At least he wasn't laughing. I sighed, rubbing my forehead with my free hand.

"I suck at engineering. Tell you what though, I need to get better if I want to make breakthroughs sooner rather than later. I can't be shorting out machines with just my presence. Could you help me out after class or during study hall?"

Peter hesitated, clearly thinking something over. "Well… I can't help out on days that we have decathlon practice, and I have stuff to do after school most other days. But if you want, you can come over to my place during the day on Saturdays…"

"Dude!" Ned interrupted, eyes wide. He proceeded to very terribly whisper to Peter: "We just met her today, you can't just invite her over right away!"

"Even if I couldn't read lips, Ned, I can still hear you," I deadpanned, raising a single eyebrow at him. The boy blushed in embarrassment, ducking his head.

"I thought you turned your hearing aids off because the cafeteria is too loud…"

"I _did."_

"Oh…"

Peter managed a smirk at our interaction, but looked a little troubled by Ned's words. "Well," Peter started slowly, hands fumbling with his fork. "Ned's kinda right, Hebi. My family is really protective and I can't just let anyone come over," he worried his lip between his teeth. I raised both my eyebrows at that, tilting my head. He caught the movement, looking up at me sheepishly. "Oh, uh, they're kinda high profile, you know? I was, uh, adopted two years ago but they kept my last name the same in school to avoid me getting too much attention."

I smiled, causing Ned and Peter to blink. "Oh! That's so weird," I put my chopsticks down. "I'm the same way. I just got adopted, officially, two weeks ago. But my dad has been my legal guardian for several months now," I chuckled at the way Peter's eyes widened comically. It seemed to be a very common reaction for him. "My dad's kinda high profile too, lately, so we did the same thing. I totally get it, he probably won't let me invite any friends over to our place unless he gets a full background check and meets you all in person at least twice," I rolled my eyes fondly. "He probably wouldn't have let me visit your place without meeting you first, anyway, so it's cool."

"Well, the robotics lab is open on weekends," Ned pitched in, drawing us back to the original topic. "Pete and I can both help you out, that way!"

Ned's energy was strangely comforting. Normally bursts of energy would mean trouble or danger, but his energy was constant and steady and didn't set off my adrenaline. It was nice. And Peter, though a constant ball of awkward nerves, held the same kind of constant energy and it was a very good change of pace for me. I smiled at their offer, nodding.

"Sounds good, I got Saturdays free," I answered. I usually went out to busk on Saturdays after our morning in the gym, but Matt would argue that school was more important anyway. In this case, considering that learning how to deal with machinery was important for my scientific future, I agreed. "My dad and I train together on Saturday mornings though, so when do you want to meet up here so I know when to cut it short?"

Peter tilted his head as he thought. "What about ten? I got some stuff to do in the morning too, but I should be able to get out by then."

I nodded easily, having to mentally reinforce that he meant ten in the morning, not at night like all of my shady meetings would have been. Or vigilante meetings, as it was lately. I didn't even realize how odd it was for a teenager to be up before ten on a Saturday, considering I didn't have anything accurate to compare to.

"Cool!" Ned bounced in his seat. "I'll be here too! I can't wait until we get to teach you coding, it's so fun, you'll love it! Do you like legos?"

Legos? I furrowed my eyebrows. "What are legos?"

The silence was deafening, and I would have shrank back in my seat if it wasn't for my training telling me to hold my ground and show no weakness.

"How do you not know what legos are?" That question actually came from MJ, who put her book down with something like concern in her eyes. I rubbed the back of my head with one hand, using the other to shove a bite of my food into my mouth. Japanese omelette, yum.

"Hebi…" Peter spoke slowly. "I hope I'm not overstepping, but who was taking care of you before your dad got guardianship?"

I swallowed my food. Unable to run away, no escape, subject change had zero chance of success. Lie? Not recommended. Truth? Also not recommended. Half-truth it was.

"My birth mother was awesome, but we were pretty poor so I probably missed out on a lot. After she died, my birth father…" I bit down the bile that threatened to rise in the back of my throat at the thought of him. "Let's just say that, before _he_ died, he kept me in the house all the time," without much of anything not needed for survival went unsaid, but understood if Peter's expression was anything to go off of. "After that, I lived on the streets for a couple years 'cause I didn't want to risk foster homes, you know? Meeting my dad was a stroke of luck. And we aren't going to talk about this again, deal?"

Peter and Ned nodded frantically, Michelle just frowning before giving a single solid nod of agreement.

"Okay, So legos are toys. Most of them are technically meant for little kids, but…" Ned started to explain, and I listened raptly between bites of my food as he and Peter told me about the toys and showed me pictures of what they had been able to make with the little bricks. I vaguely remembered having them in my kindergarten class, but those memories were so dull that I wasn't surprised I had been unable to make the connection.

"I'd totally be up for putting some together with you guys," I spoke up when their explanation was over and my food was almost gone. "Choose a pretty easy set at first though, yeah? If I'm able to short out a robotic arm with a simple gaze, I don't even want to know what I can do to a thousand-piece lego set."

The laughs following my statement made me smile softly. Hopefully it wasn't a mistake to trust these strangers with so much info, even if the lies carefully strung throughout it should be enough to throw them off if necessary.

My phone buzzed, reminding me that I had forgotten to text Foggy like I agreed to. I yelped, pulling the phone up and answering the call. "Sorry, sorry! I only have five minutes left in lunch—"

"You scared me for a second Hebi," Matt's relieved voice came from the other side of the call. "How's your day? Doing okay? You don't usually forget to text Foggy when I tell you to."

"Yeah, actually. I made some friends."

"Really? That's surprising."

"I know r— _hey!"_ I laughed along with him, the jerk. "I'll tell you all about it when I get home, okay? I gotta go, call you when school gets out."

"Alright, bye."

My three new friends were looking at me with knowing smiles, and I just huffed and put my phone back in my pocket. "Shut up," I grumbled even though they hadn't said anything. "I told you, I'm lucky to have my dad."

—*—*—*—*—*

"So I'm guessing it was a good day?" Matt was asking as we walked home together, him having met me four blocks away from the school.

I smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah it was."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I almost forgot: 
> 
> Trigger warning. Brief mention of rape/non con. It is NOT graphic, and is seriously short, but stay safe anyway. It’s towards the very end of the chapter.

"—But Spider-Man is so fast and he can lift a semi trailer with his bare hands!" Ned's voice was heard coming from a hologram that was playing, the picture of the boy animated as he waved his hands in time with his words.

"Well yeah, but Iron Man is obviously the best. He doesn't _need_ any type of genetic super strength, he can make something to do all of that just with his intelligence," Peter's voice responded, just as animated. It seemed to come from behind whatever camera had filmed the footage, alluding to the teenager being the filmer. The curly-haired Michelle was seen rolling her eyes, her chin propped on her hand.

"Black Widow doesn't have any powers either, and she can still kick all of the other avengers' asses," the snarky girl commented casually, a single eyebrow raised lazily as if she expected to win the argument and the boys were only delaying their demise by continuing to speak. Then the light skinned girl's eyes flicked over the lithe Asian girl who was sitting directly across from the camera, and to Michelle's left. The girl had hazel eyes that were a mix of light brown and forest green, all surrounded by a barely noticeable ring of ice blue. Her pitch black hair was cut in a fashionable asymmetrical pixie, the longer side of her bangs slanting just above her right eye as she wrote something on a piece of paper. One slightly tanned hand reached over, armed with chopsticks, to grab a piece of what looked like fish and stuffed it into her mouth as she wrote. "What about you, Hebi?"

The girl's eyes immediately shot up to look at Michelle's, and then the others sitting with her. She chewed for a moment, then swallowed before asking: "What about me?"

Ned made an exaggerated sigh, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Your favorite Avenger! We've all been talking about our favorite and why they're the best, weren't you listening? Mine is Spider-Man, Peter's is Iron Man, and MJ's is Black Widow. What about you?"

"Bucky Barnes. Or Winter Soldier, whatever he goes by now," she answered immediately, not even bothering to think about her answer.

Unbeknownst to those watching the hologram, Hebi had given the subject a lot of thought in the past. Unlike Legos, the Avengers were actually relevant to her assassin training. She had been given all of their files when they had been formed, filled with whatever information her trainers could gather, and been forced to study them so she knew what to expect and how to react if she ever ran into them on a job. She had been instantly fascinated however, and continued to keep up with the expanding roster even after she escaped her childhood prison. When Bucky Barnes had shown up again and joined the Avengers, he had instantly become her favorite. He had gone through something similar to Hebi herself, except on a much higher scale, and she felt she could relate to him the most.

The three teenagers stared at Hebi, silent. She sat up straighter almost immediately, furrowing her eyebrows in slight confusion. "What?"

"Why?" Peter asked, sounding curious. "I mean, he's absolutely awesome don't get me wrong. I've just never heard anyone choose him as their favorite."

"Most people are scared of him because of the whole used-to-be-a-Hydra-assassin thing," MJ added helpfully. Hebi put down her pen and her chopsticks, her eyes suddenly filled with a passionate spark as she gained a type of enthusiastic energy she hadn't had before.

"Are you kidding? The guy started out as a soldier in one of the most elite and badass groups in the military, if not _the_ most elite and badass. Then he persevered through being held captive, brainwashed, and used as a tool by the very people he spent years fighting— and for an entire lifetime! Most people would just decide to drop to the ground and give up and try to live as normal and boring a life as possible after escaping something even half as bad as that, but no!" Hebi only seemed to be exciting herself more as she spoke, her own hands starting to move with her words like Ned's had. "No, he comes back, gets whatever was done to his head sorted out, and willingly decides to _continue_ being a hero and fighting to save lives! Not to mention, I've seen footage of him beating Black Widow back when he was under Hydra control so you—" she pointed dramatically to Michelle, "— are proven wrong! He has an arm made of metal too, and the strength to use it to completely destroy Iron Man's armor if he wanted to," she pointed to Peter (the camera, really) at that, and then turned to Ned. The plump boy had paled significantly as he awaited his verbal doom after seeing his friends so soundly taken down by the Asian. "And as for Spider-man," she said slowly, narrowing her eyes. "He isn't even _in_ the Avengers! You lose. You all lose. Bucky is the only correct choice for favorite avenger, and I accept your surrender," the hologram showed Hebi bowing in her seat to her friends, who were pouting while trying hard not to laugh, before the hologram cut off.

"See?" Peter said, bouncing in his seat on the couch. "I guess that backpack-strap camera you insisted I carry and have filming at all times has finally come in handy," he drawled smugly as he looked over all of his family members that were gathered. Bucky, Steve, and Natasha sat on the other couch as Tony and Bruce sat next to Peter. They were all staring with various expressions at the open air where the video had been playing moments earlier.

The most notable was Bucky, who was wide-eyed, shellshocked, and slightly tearing up at the very first time he had ever heard someone not only call him their favorite, but argue in his favor so adamantly.

Steve didn't count, he was his best friend. Best friend opinions don't count.

"Why haven't you ever talked about her before? I thought we heard about all your friends already," Steve asked, one arm patting Bucky's back encouragingly even as he spoke to Peter. He shrugged.

"I told Dad and Uncle Bruce and Happy already, actually. She managed to pass the testing and get in even though it's already her sophomore year, so I've only really known her for a week," he told the blonde easily. "But she fits right in. It's kinda funny, because she has almost all her classes with me and Ned, and the two she doesn't have with us she has with MJ. Not only that, but you should have seen the way she stood up to Flash on the first day of school! I wish I got footage of that, but my backpack was facing the floor the whole time," the teen pouted for a moment before regaining his energy. "Oh yeah! Last month I met her as Spider-Man once!" This was news to everyone, even Tony and Bruce rose their eyebrows.

"Really?" Tony asked, sitting up slightly straighter. "Why?"

"Okay, so I'm doing patrol around time square, right? Then I get bored and decide to go patrol the streets around it, so I leave time square. I only get a few blocks away when I see this really shady guy following this pretty girl about my age, and she just walks into an alleyway. Which immediately set off alarms in my head because an alleyway? Not safe, especially when he followed her in and didn't look like he wanted a friendly chat, you know?" Natasha smirked, sharing an amused glance with the others as they resigned themselves to sitting back and listening to their favorite kid's all-too-familiar ramblings. "So I swing over. Except, I see her landing a really painful looking kick between his legs. I might have winced in sympathy a little for the guy. He drops the knife he was threatening her with, and I saw her catch it and toss it under a dumpster, and then the guy gets up and lunges at her right before I get there. She dodged, and then I landed in and knocked the guy out and webbed him up all nice and pretty for the cops. And then she looked at me and told me that she had the situation under control and I had wasted my time, but she still appreciated what I did to keep people safe, but that I should focus on protecting people who hadn't been learning self defense since they were a kid— and then I left."

The room was silent as the heroes tried to decipher the lightning-fast word vomit the boy had given them, but it only took a few seconds for everything to sink in.

"And then she just shows up as a new student at your school?" Bruce asked, eyebrows high on his face. "What is your luck?"

"I don't even know, man!" Peter agreed, throwing his arms up before sinking backwards into the sofa. "Oh, and get this!" He continued, guessing that Hebi hadn't told him to keep quiet about it and she had seemed pretty at ease about the information, so it was probably okay for him to tell his family that— "She's adopted too! She said that her dad—adoptive dad—was her legal guardian for a few months, but the adoption just went through a few weeks before school started. And she said he's kinda high profile, so she's like me! Well, I mean, not _totally_ like me, but she hyphenated her name like me and has to keep it in it's old way at school for her safety. Like me."

"That's a lot of 'like me's," Bucky spoke up, his eyes and voice under control now that the emotional effect of Hebi's words had had time to settle down. "We aren't going to have to deal with another troublemaking vigilante kid now, are we?" The former assassin asked with a small grin. Peter shook his head, laughing.

"No, of course not! There's no way my luck would be _that_ weird! Besides, I'm the only teenaged vigilante out there. I think," he twisted his face in thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think so. Oh yeah! Did I mention she has hearing aids? She said she's about fifty-percent deaf, maybe as much as sixty, but she hasn't bothered with the exact percentages in a while. Uncle Clint!" Peter raised his face to where he knew the archer probably was in the vents. "You'd be so proud! She made having hearing aids look badass!"

"Language!" Steve scolded, but his tone was pretty relaxed despite the reprimand. Peter ignored him, and Clint's voice echoed through the vents as he said;

"I approve! She and I can beat the shit out of ableists together!"

"Language, Clint! Stop cursing in front of Peter!" Steve scolded towards the vents even as Tony snickered.

"Yeah Katniss, stop fucking cussing in front of my son!"

" _Tony!"_

— _*—*—*—*—*_

"Anybody else think that that girl is weird?" Nat asked late that night, sitting at the kitchen counter with fellow ex-assassins Clint and Bucky. The winter soldier was downing a cup of milk, and rolled his eyes.

"Why, because I'm her favorite? Or are you sore that she knows that I'm stronger than you?" He teased. He didn't like thinking about his days brainwashed by Hydra, but after Hebi's little speech he felt okay mentioning his past triumph over the redhead. As long as he didn't think too hard about it.

Natasha glared at the man, but shook her head. "No, come on be serious. She meets Spider-Man, then shows up as a student at Peter's school when the school year begins the next month? When most people aren't allowed in even when they apply before their Freshman year like they're supposed to?" She asked, and Clint's eyebrows slowly started to furrow. "Not to mention, not many people train in self defense since they were _kids_. Most fifteen year olds don't know how to fight at all unless they're in some martial arts club, Peter not included, but according to Pete this Hebi girl only trains with her dad once a week. And the schedule? How can she just have every class with Peter or one of his closest friends? It smells fishy."

"Wow, now you just sound old," Clint teased, but his eyes were serious. "The adoption thing is weird too. Has anyone high profile adopted lately? And is it good high profile, or bad? The timing is just really off. Also, the footage of Winter Soldier beating you, Nat, is extremely hard to find even after the information dump you did when SHIELD fell. I've tried looking for it before and had to ask for Tony's help so we could hide it again. How does an average fifteen year old have access to that video?"

"I think you're all being ridiculous," Bucky voiced, his cup empty now. "She could have found the video before you guys hid it again, as a stroke of luck or something. Crazier things have happened. And the timing?" The former assassin raised an eyebrow at his friends. "Really? This is Peter's life we're talking about. He met Tony and fought us all as Spider-Man literal weeks after his thirteenth birthday and two months before his aunt died, his girlfriend's dad tried to kill him, and the scientist he visited to ask about how he knew his parents turned into a lizard and rampaged around town literal hours after they met. Nothing is normal with that kid's luck, this is probably just another monumental coincidence like the many that rule over Peter's life."

"I don't know," Clint argues, looking a little dubious. "Better safe than sorry. You planning on doing recon, Nat?"

The redhead nodded, smirking at her old friend. "Yeah. You coming with?"

The archer nodded. "Obviously, I'm your backup. What about you, Bucks?"

The man shook his head, sending long black hair flying. "You both are ridiculous," he groused. "I'm not going to help spy on a teenager. When I'm proven right, you can come and apologize to me. Goodnight, paranoid idiots," he stood up and left to go to bed after rinsing out his cup.

Nat and Clint shared a look.

"He's totally just upset that we're suspicious about his number one fan."

"Oh, totally."

—*—*—*—*—*

I punched the punching bag, feeling pretty good. My first week at school had been pretty smooth sailing, and I had fallen in with Ned, MJ, and Peter way more easily than I thought I could have gotten along with anyone my own age anymore. It just seemed so natural, it was a bit disorienting.

I hit the punching bag without paying attention to which hand I was using, and hissed in pain. Matt's head flew over to me, his red eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just hit my bruised knuckles like an idiot," I assured him. I had went out on patrol as Boa with him the night before, and had accidentally punched a wall when a wannabe mugger managed to dodge one of my strikes. I hadn't been using my super strength for obvious reasons, so instead of chipping away at the wall the wall had chipped away at my skin. Lovely. But it was minor, so it would be mostly healed by Monday.

I was about to ask if we could spar, but Matt tilted his head and said: "we have people watching us," as softly as he could while still allowing me to hear it. I froze for a split second before forcing myself to relax and appear natural, walking over to him. I took a small breath of air, and sure enough I smelled the very faint scents of two strangers.

"You need help with weights?" I asked, as if he was a normal blind guy I was helping out with on his fitness day. Matt looked confused for a moment before catching on, and nodded as he removed his boxing gloves.

"Uh yeah, you mind Hebi?" He asked in a normal volume, waiting until I "led" him to the weights and he was facing the wall before saying: "One man, one woman. Both fit, one of them is carrying… arrows? The other sounds like electricity. Professionals, perched on the rooftop to the left," he whispered into my ear as he bent down to pick up a weight and I made a show of helping him pick out the right one.

I blinked, min whirring as I was confused for a minute. Arrows? The whole description was very familiar and I couldn't help but find myself hoping very, very hard that our spies were not who I thought they were.

That hope was horridly shattered when I was unnecessarily spotting Matt as he lifted some basic hand weights, keeping up our charade. The doors to the gym opened, and in walked the two people I had never wanted to meet in a situation where I had something to hide. Aka: never in my life.

Black Widow and Hawkeye, armed but in low profile civilian clothing.

Matt froze, still using his age-old act of a normal blind guy. I thanked whoever was listening that he had years of practice and could do that act in his sleep. "Hebi? Did someone come in?"

I looked over at him, having to use every ounce of my training to keep up a poker face and appear normal. I allowed a small bit of my nerves to show through, since that would be normal for any civilian to just randomly see two avengers, but I made sure I wasn't tense or acting robotic. My sheer panic needed to go unnoticed.

"Yeah, Hawkeye and Black Widow," I replied, letting some awe slip into my voice. I kept my eyes on them, letting my eyes widen in what I hoped was seen as awe and shock and not the horror it really was. Matt froze, not having expected that. How could he? He didn't know their scents and he couldn't recognize their appearances because he was, well, _blind._

The redhead smiled at me disarmingly, and I turned to help out Matt when I saw him trying to put his weights down by himself. I made it look like I was just making sure he wasn't going to smash his own toes, when really I was doing my best to hide our shared nerves.

"Hey. Sorry for just popping in," the woman said smoothly. I didn't believe her amiable tone for a second. She was trained much more thoroughly than I was, her friendly tone could be completely faked and I wouldn't know for sure until it was too late unless I kept my guard up. So I did.

Once Matt's weights were safely on the ground, both of us straightened and I "led" Matt over to them. He smiled back, just as charming and disarming as Natasha's smile. Neither of them faltered.

Matt held out his hand. "Hello, I'm Matthew Murdock. Is there something we can help you guys with?"

It was Clint who answered, the man shifting and taking Matt's hand firmly. He also seemed completely relaxed and friendly, which just set alarm bells in my head.

"Actually, yes. You see I ran into this group a while back during one of my missions for SHIELD, not long before the Avengers were formed almost nine years ago. They were pretty scummy, kidnapped children and experimented on them. I was trying to track them down, but the New York and Loki incident distracted me. I just recently reopened the case."

My veins felt like they carried ice water. They knew. There was no reason for them to approach us talking about Dryad if they didn't. I stayed silent anyway, hoping against logic that they didn't. That I was wrong.

"You see, back then I managed to hack into their personal files and—"

"I'm sorry, mister Hawkeye, but what does this have to do with me and my daughter?" Matt interrupted, channeling his Lawyer persona as he stood straight and rigid and no longer easy to win over. Sometimes I thought that the lawyer Matthew Murdock was scarier than Daredevil. This was one of those moments.

Clint smiled, and met Hebi's eyes evenly. His eyes were somehow warm and cold at the same time, open but guarded. I had no idea what their play was.

"What Clint is trying to say," Nat spoke up. "Is that we know only one girl survived the group's experiments. Clint managed to get an updated look at her right before the Ultron disaster, but once again that mess distracted him and he forgot about Dryad for a moment."

It took everything in me not to react at the group's name, but Matt hadn't been through the same training I had. He stiffened and raised his chin slightly at the namedrop, making my stomach drop. His reaction would be more than enough to confirm the two super spies' suspicions. Sure enough, Romanov's stance relaxed slightly and her lips turned up in a triumphant smirk.

"I see you recognize the name. Do you happen to know that your daughter Hebi is the same girl he saw in the personnel pictures? Her name was even listed, albeit we had to go through layers upon layers of code in order to access it. Hebi Teal. Kidnapped by the organization at age six, escaped at age twelve, trained as an assassin for the years between. Off the radar until now," she nodded towards me, and then her eyes connected with mine. I met the gaze evenly, no longer keeping up the charade of the normal daughter. My back was straight, and I did not waver despite the weight of her stare. I felt Matt's hand on my shoulder, but ignored it.

"Did you know?" Clint's voice asked my dad softly. "Before you adopted her? We've done our homework on you too, Mister Murdock. You're an amazing lawyer, and we know there's nothing shady going on with you. But even a bleeding heart like yourself wouldn't just randomly adopt a homeless girl— though I must admit, the lies you gave CPS about knowing her mother were really good. She help you with that?"

"I knew," I swung my head over to Matt when he said that, my eyes wide.

"Matt!" I hissed, scanning his face. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Telling the truth, Hebi. Two avengers aren't going to scare me, and if they wanted to arrest you or me or both us, they would have by now," he said with his head tilted towards mine before turning back to the two assassins. "Yes, I knew. I found Hebi after she had taken down a few armed thugs late at night who were from Dryad and trying to kidnap her again. She wants a normal life, she wants to be a biochemist, and I'm helping her with that. She doesn't deserve to watch her future go down the drain because of something done to her against her will," he told the two avengers firmly.

"What about Boa? You helping her be a vigilante while she's at it too?" Clint asked, his posture still relaxed and voice friendly. I turned my gaze to him, analyzing his face. He flicked his eyes from Matt's face to mine, smiling when he caught my stare. It was a face I wanted to trust. I furrowed my eyes, not trusting how kind he seemed.

"Boa?" Matt asked, tilting his head as if he was confused. Natasha snorted.

"Yes, Boa. We decrypted all of the files Dryad had on her, we know her abilities are snakelike. And low and behold, not very long after you adopt her a snake themed vigilante shows up? That's not a coincidence. What do you have to do with Daredevil?"

Oh fucking— _something_ was in our favor at least! I felt relief try to bubble up, and smothered it. They didn't know Matt was Daredevil!

"Daredevil saved my life," I answered before Matt could. He furrowed his brows and frowned, but let me take the lead. "On several occasions. But living on the streets isn't exactly the best condition for being a vigilante, I had to worry about my own survival first. After Matt took me in, I decided someone had to watch that idiot's back before he got himself killed and since he had always helped me without asking, I figured to even the scale," I made sure I spoke slowly, distrust clear in my tone. I didn't need them being suspicious of how easily I was shared information. I paused for a moment, looking between Matt and our two interrogators. "I ran it by Matt. For a blind guy he's pretty observant, so I knew I wouldn't be able to sneak out without him finding out pretty quickly," that made their eyebrows raise, impressed. Good, they were only thinking about how impressive it was that a trained assassin couldn't sneak under his radar. Impressive, but not superhuman. I could deal with that. We both could. "It took weeks, but he eventually agreed. All I want is to keep Double D from dying, I owe him that much. If I get to throw some lowlifes into prison at the same time," I shrugged. "Bonus."

"What about Matt? Why did you choose to go live with some stranger?" The Russian woman shot at me next, and I sighed. Sometimes I asked myself that same question, still.

"Daredevil trusts him," I answered. "He keeps up with Matt's cases, the guy is a bit crazy about justice after all. Since Double D trusts him, I decided to give it a shot," I couldn't help the nostalgic grin that came over my lips. "I didn't plan on staying over a week. Somehow the guy managed to convince me to become his ward. Let me tell you, no offense Matt, but a blind lawyer doesn't exactly intimidate me physically. But sometimes the Lawyer Matthew Murdock is even scarier than the Devil of Hell's kitchen, and I never like being on the wrong side of an argument with him," I shook my head, and Matt snorted.

"Are you serious?" He asked disbelievingly, an eyebrow raised. I gave him a deadpan glare he couldn't see.

"Yeah, I've been to your trails. Do you even _see_ your— oh wait," I let my voice turn impish at the end, starling a laugh it of both Matt _and_ Clint, though Natasha remained unmoved. That was fine.

Thankfully, the redhead seemed satisfied by my half-truths. Clint was the only one with more to say.

"And you're okay with her risking her life at night fighting criminals? If she was my kid, I'd be scared to death about her getting hurt," he managed to sound sympathetic. That made me wonder if he actually did have kids, before shrugging the thought off. No way, how would an avenger like him juggle superhero duties with a family?

Matt's grimace was one hundred percent real, and I was reminded of his original vehement denial when I asked to go on patrol with him. "Hell no I'm not happy about it, but despite what Hebi says, she's pretty good at arguing herself. Then when she snuck out without my permission one night and I woke up without her in the apartment, I realized I couldn't just keep telling her no," he crossed his arms, and grunted. "So I set up ground rules and make sure to yell at Daredevil if she ever comes home wounded. The system's worked so far."

Yessss! The lying lessons I've been giving him worked out. It had nothing to do with us working that exact story out in case someone outed one of us. Absolutely not. And it had nothing to do with my paranoia. Nope.

Clint and Natasha shared a look with a suspiciously sympathetic smile, and I tilted my head. "Yeah, kids will do that, sneaking out," Clint agreed. "Well, that's all we want—"

"Nope," I interrupted, crossing my arms and standing tall next to Matt. "Why did you just walk in here and out pretty much all my secrets? Do you really think we'd just let you leave without explaining yourselves? We deserve to know why two strangers suddenly know about me being Boa."

The two avengers shared another glace, slightly apprehensive and amused at the same time. They communicated seemingly silently for a moment before Clint finally sighed.

"You see, when one of our favorite kids comes home and starts boasting about his new badass friend with hearing aids that seemed to pop into his life far too conveniently, we get suspicious. And when we get suspicious, we get worried," the archer spoke slowly. I furrowed my eyebrows, utterly confused for a long moment before—

" _Peter?!"_ I couldn't keep my shock out of my voice, and felt all the muscles in my face relaxing in surprise. "He said his family was high profile, but— but the _avengers?_ Is that why he got all weird and sentimental about me choosing Bucky as my favorite yesterday? Holy fu—"

"Hebi."

"—dge. Holy fudge."

Natasha let out a long sigh, rubbing her forehead. "We owe Barnes an apology. Damn it. To answer you, yes. Peter was adopted almost two years ago, Tony scouted him as an intern because of a project he did that blew him away. When Peter's last living relative died only a couple months after that…" Romanov trailed off, and Clint finished the explanation for her;

"Tony decided to look after the kid so he didn't go into foster care. It's kinda hilarious how quickly they went from guardianship to full blown adoption, but those two are inseparable now. And having a Stark going to public high school would attract too much attention, so we kept his last name as just Parker. So don't go blabbing, yeah?" I saw the threat even in his gentle eyes, and glared at him.

"Okay, I know I was trained for the better part of my childhood to only look after myself and to kill, but Peter is my friend damn it! Obviously I'm not gonna go around telling everyone his secrets, shit, even _I'm_ better than that," I growled out, and the archer relaxed and beamed another smile at me.

"And having a vigilante going to public school would attract just as much bad attention. So," Matt took over, glaring sightlessly at the two. "There are tons of privacy violations going on right now. I'm not a lawyer afraid of taking on the Avengers if I have to in order to get pay back for my daughter."

Natasha smiled. "We'll get along just fine," She drawled easily. "We won't even tell the other avengers, Clint and I like having secrets anyway. Feel free to come visit Peter at the tower sometime, we'll tell everyone your background check checked out. But hurt Peter at all, and you won't like dealing with us."

"I hear it's a great view underwater at the Raft these days!" Clint added happily. "But we like you, so let's avoid that yeah?"

"Yeah." I agreed, letting myself relax as they left. Matt and I went to sit down at the edge of the boxing ring, silent as we let what just happened sink in.

"No bugs," Matt spoke up after a few minutes. "I don't sense any electrical currents other than the usual, so we're free to talk. They're out of range."

I sighed, falling backwards onto the ring. "Fuuuuuuck. I have to meet Peter in two hours at school so he can help me with mechanics. How the hell am I supposed to act normal?"

"The same way you were able to lie to the faces of two super spies," Matt retorted without mercy. "With the poker face you spent years learning. Honestly, you would have fooled me a couple times there if I hadn't been in on the truth. What the heck?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "Oh, dear Matt. Don't you know the only way to lie to someone you can't lie to is with the truth?"

—*—*—*—*—*

Clint and Nat arrived back at the tower at eight thirty in the morning and saw Bucky sprawled out on the couch watching TV. Sam was reading while laid out on the other sofa. The super soldier looked up when they came in, raising an eyebrow.

"So? How'd the whole spying-on-a-minor thing go?" Bucky asked easily.

"Wait, What?" Sam asked, setting down his book to look at the two spies incredulously. "You did _what?"_

"Don't worry about it birdbrain," Nat answered easily, going to grab herself a soda. "And you were right, Bucky. His luck is just really strange."

Barnes snorted. "Told you."

Nat and Clint shared a glance. No need to tell him about how Clint had instantly seen the similarities between the girl who was Peter's newest friend and the sole survivor of Dryad's experiments, which he would have noticed earlier had he been watching the hologram with everyone else. Or how they had spent a solid hour using Stark's decryption tech to get the girl's name from Dryad's secret database just to make sure they were right, because a ten-year-old's face wasn't identical enough to her fifteen-year-old face so they needed to be certain.

"I wonder how Peter will react when he finds out he _isn't_ the only teenaged vigilante," Clint whispered to Nat while they were alone in the kitchen. The redhead smirked at him.

"Oh please, you know he'll be over the moon. But he'll have to figure it out on his own, we want to be friends with Murdock and not enemies. I have a feeling he'll be a really important lawyer one day, and the Avengers don't need any more influential people against them."

—*—*—*—*—*

"So," I said as Peter showed me the basics of circuitry and how to _avoid_ shorting things out. I watched his hands carefully as I spoke. "Black widow and Hawkeye paid my dad and I a visit this morning."

Peter lost concentration, accidentally poking the wrong thing and shocking himself. He hissed, drawing his finger back and sticking it in his mouth. "Rewwy?" He asked around his hurt finger. "Mo way!"

"You were visited by two avengers?" Ned asked, looking up from his own more advanced project with wide eyes. "Why? Did they threaten you? Oh my god do you have to move now?!"

"What?" I looked at Ned with my eyebrows furrowed in what I called the "are you stupid?" Face. "Of course not. You weren't kidding when you said your family is overprotective dude," I aimed the second half of what I said back at Peter, who was still staring at me. "Apparently me showing up randomly and having so many classes with you made them suspicious, so they decided to talk to me and my dad in person. And me being the wonderful genius I am," I put a hand dramatically over my chest. "I put two and two together and figured that they were some of the high-profile family you were talking about in Monday. They confirmed it, threatened me not to ever tell anyone on pain of death, and invited me to come over sometime."

"Oh my god I am so sorry," Peter blubbered once he got his finger out of his mouth, looking at me apologetically. "They can really crazy sometimes. I hope they didn't scare you or your dad too badly, they wouldn't actually hurt you unless you, like, tried to kill me or something drastic like that. Which you obviously won't do because you don't even get physical with Flash and he pisses you off on purpose."

My face twisted at the mention of the bully, who seemed to like to target me for having stood up to him for Peter. But from what Ned and MJ had told me, Flash was usually bullying Peter nonstop so I was okay with his ire being directed towards me if it meant that my innocent friend got a break from it.

"Trust me, the only thing keeping me from punching that idiot sometimes is the knowledge that I would get the Disappointed Look from my dad if I did," I told my friend, wrinkling my nose in a very real grimace. Matt's Blind But Disappointed Glare was horrible, it made even my inner ruthless assassin cringe with shame. The only time I had had to face it in its full glory so far was back when I put a guy in a coma for trying to rape a girl, I probably would have killed him it wasn't for Matt. He was very disappointed in my use of excessive force, though he was just as disgusted and angry at the man as I was. "But don't worry Peter, I like them," I admitted with a small grin. "They don't take shit and they don't talk shit. Do you think Black Widow will train me if I ask?"

Not that I needed it, but it was what Peter probably expected me to ask. After all, I made a big deal about liking martial arts so he probably expected me to jump at the chance to train with one of best fighters in the world. And yeah, the thought did make a little excited. Just a bit.

Peter smiled widely. "Maybe if you can successfully fix the laptop I've been teaching you to repair by next week, I'll ask her for you. But if you break it even further, then you'll have to wait until you can properly deal with electronics first."

"Deal."

—*—*—*—*—*

**They took this chapter from me. The characters hijacked it. Holy crap. Okay, let's move on, lol!**

**See you next chapter~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PAY ATTENTION TO THIS NOTE! 
> 
> Trigger warning in effect. Repeated and variously in-depth discussion of the following topics: 
> 
> Character death, character suicide, substance abuse, childhood trauma, Overdosing, alcohol poisoning. 
> 
> Stay safe.

I woke up on Monday to total darkness. My heart stuttered for a moment as I panicked in my groggy state, until I realized what was happening and sighed in despair.

Right. My shed cycle was still a thing.

"Guess it's about time to test out our plan and see how well it works, huh?" Matt asked from where he was trying his hand at making miso soup for breakfast. The scent made me smile.

"You know, I've never actually been to Japan despite my biological father being Japanese," I mused out loud. "You don't have to make a traditional Japanese breakfast for me."

"I want to," he insisted firmly, and I just smiled wider, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Okay, Okay. Anyway, yeah. Time to see if this works," I sat up slowly and walked over to sit in my usual stool at the counter. "I needed a doctor's note to make sure all my bases are covered though, so I called in a friend of mine."

Matt tilted his head as he poured miso soup into two bowls. "That wouldn't happen to be the person making their way to our apartment right now, would it?"

I blinked, tilting my head up and taking a taste of the air. Yep, that was them. "I'll get the door for him," I said immediately, standing up and going to the door. I opened it before the person even got a chance to knock.

"I hope you realize I am no longer practicing," the man's voice drawled instantly, not at all caught off guard by the fact that I knew he was there before he had a chance to announce his presence. Which, of course, was perfectly in character for this particular grouch.

"I hope you realize you still have a doctorate and are still a medical professional, so you can still write me a note," I responded cheerily, stepping aside so he could come in. The man gave a long suffering sigh, but entered anyway. He almost immediately saw Matt, and walked over to greet him.

"Hello. I'm Doctor Stephen Strange, your daughter is calling in a favor and being a general nuisance."

I snickered, wishing I could see his face. I loved annoying him, and he knew it. Regardless of his tone though, we both knew he liked me.

"Matthew Murdock," my dad greeted back, shaking Strange's hand. Strange didn't mention having waited for him to hold his hand out first, and in return Matt didn't mention the trembling he could obviously detect from the doctor's grip. "I know Hebi can be a bit annoying, but thank you for agreeing to help. It means a lot."

"Yes, well," Strange shifted a bit in what I assumed to be discomfort. "Considering she has helped me on a few occasions, I suppose I owe it to her. Let's get started shall we?" He turned to me to take the attention off of anything remotely emotional, and I smirked. I sat on the couch, lifting my head so he had a clear view of my in-shed eyes.

"How many friends do you _have,_ Hebi?" Matt asked, and I figured by the tone of his voice that his eyebrows were probably furrowed. Plus, all the right muscles in his face were contracted so it made sense. "Or at least, how many _powerful_ friends do you have?"

I chuckled, and from the way Strange knelt in front of me to get a good look at my eyes I could sense his own mouth curled up into a smirk. Matt didn't even know the beginning of Stephen's power, he probably only recognized his name from his days as a high profile surgeon.

"Maybe you should start a list, Matt. You'll reach the end of it eventually," I teased. He groaned in response before walking over to the rice cooker he had set up and scooping some out onto two plates.

I briefly felt the heat of a flashlight, and I could even see a very, very dim pinpoint of light from it as it moved around.

"Can you register that?" Strange asked, and I frowned.

"Kinda? It's like, a tiny pinprick of very dim light. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was imagining it," I admitted.

Stephen huffed. "That was an inch from your eyes, Hebi."

I nodded. "I know, my heat pits are still working, thanks. We both know you don't actually have to be this thorough, the issue is very easy to see."

"Not for you," he retorted without missing a beat, shutting the flashlight off and tucking it away. A moment later, he pulled a sheet of what sounded like paper from his jacket and I heard the clicking of a pen. Matt and I both snorted at his all too true response, and I left to get dressed as the Sorcerer Supreme jotted down a note for me for school. By the time I got back out, there was a full traditional Japanese breakfast laid out and Strange was holding a finished note in his hands.

"Here," he handed the note to me. "I wrote that you have a light sensitivity issue, requiring you to occasionally wear thick tinted sunglasses to protect your eyes from light damage. Don't get discovered, because I would hate to rely on your father to bail me out of a legal issue."

I rose at eyebrow at the older man, not believing him for a second. "Yeah. As if you'd actually ever need him to," I deadpanned. He shrugged noncommittally.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Matt muttered from his place in the kitchen, and I could sense his lips turned down in a frown.

"You are," Strange and I said at the same time, but neither of us bothered to elaborate as the man straightened his suit jacket and walked out without another word.

Always a ray of sunshine, that one.

Matt was rubbing his forehead when I made my way over to the kitchen counter and sat on my stool again. "Is he always like that?"

"Yes," I answered instantly. "He grows on you. I like him."

"I know," Matt grumbled as he sat down to eat too. "That's the problem. If I leave you alone with him too long, you two will end up destroying the world. Or causing general mayhem."

I blinked, a piece of fish halfway to my mouth. Matt instantly caught my aborted movement, and looked up from where he had been about to take a sip of soup.

" _What did you do?_ "

"Nothing!" I responded too quickly, shoving the food in my mouth and refusing to answer him when Matt continued to interrogate me. "But, uh, for clarification. Just for clarification. Completely hypothetical. Does helping massacre an army of invading demons count as mayhem?"

" _Excuse me?"_

"I mean, if I was _hypothetically_ the one who accidentally opened the portal that let them in after I was _hypothetically_ tossed through Strange's window and _hypothetically_ landed in the wrong thing—"

"I have so many questions."

"None of which I will answer in any satisfying way."

—*—*—*—*—*

Five minutes. Five minutes after I entered school grounds and met up with Ned, MJ, and Peter was as long as I lasted before a teacher marched up demanding I take off my sunglasses. I sighed in frustration, not having had enough time to even fill my friends in on what was going on, and I hadn't even made it to the front office like I had been _trying to do_ yet.

Thoroughly annoyed, I looked up at the teacher and frowned.

"No," I said firmly. "I am heading to the office to file an official doctor's note to keep them on," I continued before the teacher could get a word in edgewise. I swung my backpack to the front of my body, reaching in one pocket to pull out the note. I presented it to her with a flourish. "See?"

The bitch didn't even look at the paper, she just reached for my face. I recoiled, absolutely _hating_ being touched by strangers especially on my shed, and especially without warning.

"Well you can put them back on once the note is properly filed and put in the system. Until then, they are against dress code," her fingers closed around my glasses and I shut my eyes tightly.

"Hey!" Ned exclaimed, upset at what was happening. Unable to fight back for obvious reasons, I forced my body to remain still and rigid as I felt my only protection getting removed from my face. Those glasses were like shields, it felt horribly exposing to be without them in such a public setting. The teacher clicked the glasses shut and held them up in one hand.

"You can get them back once the paperwork is filed," she said with a tone of finality.

"How am I supposed to do that?" I asked, mortified at the very real vulnerability in my voice. It wasn't until I felt Peter's hands on my shoulders that I realized I was trembling. "I can't open my eyes or I'll risk light damage!"

"What?" Peter asked, shocked. I felt his head turn to me in surprise. I clenched and unclenched my hands to keep myself calm.

"I have an eye condition," I said slowly. "I was going to get all the paperwork filed sooner, but my doctor could only meet me early this morning at the soonest appointment to write up an official note. My eyes occasionally get extremely light sensitive, and if I am exposed to lights that are too bright while they're like this, I could temporarily or even permanently go blind depending on the severity," I recited, internally embarrassed that the trembling in my voice didn't have to be faked. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and humiliated. It was horrible.

Added onto that, I could feel the dry skin of my shedding eye caps rubbing against the inside of my eyelids. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and even dangerous for long periods of time. If I wasn't careful, the eye caps could scratch the sensitive skin and made them bleed, which would just cause a myriad of issues. I had to learn that the hard way years earlier.

MJ was tense, I could feel all her muscles rigid as she took steps towards the teacher and held out her hand. "You need to give Hebi her glasses back. This is a health issue, and she has the proper paperwork right here. You can't keep her property under those conditions," she said tensely. I grit my teeth, hoping it would work.

"If it isn't in the system, it isn't official," the teacher retorted. "But I'll walk her down to the office to get this sorted out. Come on."

"We're going with you," Peter interjected, voice strong and I could even sense carefully hidden anger. I turned my head towards him in shock, not expecting him to defy a teacher so easily. If he noticed my pseudo-gaze, he ignored it. "I don't feel okay letting her go alone with you when you were so quick to take away something she needs despite her trying to defend herself," he spoke sternly. I felt my shoulders fall, my mouth dropping open and opening me to all the horrible, mixed scents that floated in the crowded hallway air. Whoever invented Axe needed to be murdered, ASAP.

Peter was standing up to the bitch because he was worried about me. It made my stomach roll when I realized he was protecting me based on a lie, but I shoved the feeling away as best I could. I'd deal with that guilt later. He cared.

And hell, it said a lot about me that even after months of living with Matt and being friends with Karen and Foggy, the feeling of being cared for was still foreign.

"I'll need someone to lead me anyway," I spoke up before the teacher could, slowly moving my hands up to wrap around one of Peter's biceps. For a scrawny guy, he had surprisingly solid muscles. "I'm essentially flying blind until you can give me my sunglasses back, and I don't trust you after that stunt you just pulled."

The teacher huffed, and I suspected she probably rolled her eyes before turning swiftly on her heel. I turned my head towards Ned and MJ.

"It would be overkill if you guys all came," I said gently, and gave them a lopsided smile. "But it means a lot to know you guys got my back, so thanks. Go ahead to class, Peter and I will meet up once we're done with this mess."

I could feel them hesitate, before MJ nodded to herself. "Okay. Hurry up, losers," I could feel her gaze linger on my face for a long moment before the other girl turned and dragged Ned away by the arm. I took a breath and nodded to Peter, who began slowly leading me.

The guy was incredibly considerate, despite being new to the whole leading thing. Peter was careful to warn me of when people were getting close, and softly muttered when we were turning a corner or had to maneuver around something. With my heat pits I didn't really need the help, but I still really appreciated the effort he was giving. After a few minutes we arrived at the office, the bitchy teacher watching as I handed over my doctor's note and the office worker looked over everything before getting up to hand it to the nurse for filing. It wasn't until the office lady came back to confirm it was all taken care of that the teacher from before walked over and held out my glasses.

"See? Was that so hard?" She asked condescendingly. I turned my head to her.

"Considering I've had to do everything with my eyes closed? Yes," I snapped back. "I'd like my glasses back now," I said, holding out my hand as if I didn't notice how she was already holding them out for me. The woman placed them in my hand and walked away with a huff, closing the door just a bit too loudly on her way out.

"You okay, Hebi?" Peter asked gently as I put my sunglasses on and opened my eyes with a sigh of relief. I smiled at him, nodding.

"Yeah. Thanks for leading me, Pete. People usually assume I never need any help, which is better than treating me like glass at least, but it means a lot that you didn't hesitate to help me out. So yeah, thanks," I could sense the boy rubbing the back of his neck, and the heat of his cheeks rose a bit and alluded to him blushing.

"Uh, yeah. What that teacher did wasn't cool, and I'll always be there for you Hebi. You're one of my friends, I'm not gonna just let you handle stuff like that on your own. Come on, let's get to class," he led the way out of the office, and I had a small grin on my face the whole way to English.

"Hey," Ned greeted when we got in our seats. "Everything's taken care of then?" Peter and I nodded.

"What are you doing, MJ?" I asked, noticing she was on her phone since class still hadn't started yet. She held up her screen, reminding me I needed to find a way to deal with reading digital stuff if I wanted my charade to stick.

"Complaining," she said simply before turning the screen back to herself. "Well, doing research _before_ I complain. I'm pretty sure what she did is against school policy or a law or something."

I stared towards her, and shook my head in disbelief after a moment. "You don't have to go that far…" I said slowly. "I've dealt with people like her a lot. Especially on the streets, I mean we _are_ in NYC. Attitude is pretty inseparable from the city."

I felt three heavy gazes on me, before Ned leaned over his desk in front of Peter and put a hand on my shoulder. I tensed for a moment, not expecting the contact and not liking it, but after a moment I relaxed. Ned was okay. He was safe.

"You're not on the streets or locked up in a house anymore," he said softly. "We'll help you as much as we want. No arguments."

I made a sound somewhere halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "I guess I'll just have to get used to having people in my corner, huh?"

"Yup," Peter agreed cheerily. "Can't get rid of us now, you're one of us."

Yeah. I seriously doubted he'd keep saying that if he saw me kill somebody, but I didn't plan to do that anytime soon so it should be fine, I figured. Probably.

—*—*—*—*—*

Peter was making a call he never thought he'd make.

Luckily, Tony picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, Underoos," his dad greeted cheerfully, the sound of machines whirring and clacking in the background told of the engineer being in his lab. "Aren't you supposed to be at lunch?" A toilet flushed. "Wait, are you calling me from the restroom? You couldn't have chosen a classier location to call your favorite billionaire from?"

"Can you get a teacher fired for me?" Peter blurted out once the person who flushed the toilet left. The scientist on the other end of the call went silent for a moment.

"Um. Okay, did they murder someone in front of you or did someone hijack your voice and/or body, because that request is very out of character for you. Seriously. I offered to get your asshole of a math teacher fired last year for treating you unfairly, and I seem to remember you vehemently denying me and saying that it wouldn't be right for someone to lose their job just because they caused you a little bit of a problem with your grades."

"Well yeah, I can totally handle Mr. Smith being a low-level jerk," Peter retorted easily. "That was only affecting me as far as I know, anyway. But the teacher I'm talking about messed with one of my friends. You should have seen it— actually, I'm pretty sure it was caught on both the school security cameras and my backpack-strap camera. You should watch it. Now."

Tony, confused but intrigued, put down the tool he was using to work on one of his many suits. Kicking against the ground, he rolled over to where his StarkPad was and picked it up to access the footage from Peter's secret camera.

"What time should I rewind to?" The genius asked. Peter hummed over the phone for a second, thinking.

"About 8:40? Sounds about right," the teen answered slowly. Back in Avengers Tower, Stark nodded and dragged the continuous footage back to the appropriate time stamp. It took a little bit of adjusting and trial and error, but he eventually got the right start time.

Peter was tapping his foot on the ground, jittery. "Look Dad, I've been gone a little too long. I'm gonna head back to the table before the guys get suspicious. Watch the whole thing, with your volume up!"

Peter hung up before Tony could respond, but nonetheless the philanthropist sighed and stood up, carrying his StarkPad to the living room. If he was going to watch something almost undeniably upsetting if Peter was to believed (he usually was with things like this), then he rather it be while he was sitting on something comfortable and without sensitive machinery around to accidentally break in the event of a very likely anger-induced lash out.

If Natasha and Bucky were also in the room as a Plan B, all the better.

The two assassins were doing their own thing. Natasha was watching something mindless on TV, and Bucky was cooking something for himself. Without paying either of them a glance, Tony put the video on hologram and pressed play.

Bucky turned off the stove after ten seconds to turn and watch.

Natasha had muted the TV almost instantly. She watched, knowing what she did about the Asian girl now, as Hebi trembled on the video and had to be comforted by Peter. With the camera so close to her, it was easy to see. Now Natasha knew how to fake trembles, and she knew that Hebi at the very least had a very impressive poker face. But it was easy for the seasoned spy to tell that Hebi hadn't even realized she had been shaking until Peter touched her shoulders. That wasn't something she could have faked easily, and if she did then she deserved an Academy Award.

The redhead watched as the girl who had fearlessly met her gaze seemed to unravel as quietly and subtly as she possibly could.

Logically, Nat could pick out most of the lies Hebi strung in her words because of what she read from Dryad's database, but the overall situation didn't change or lessen because of it. The exact issue might have been a lie, but Nat knew that Hebi was most definitely vulnerable and needed the sunglasses for a health and/or security reason.

The video ended, and Tony shut off the hologram. The room was silent for a long moment.

"You said the background check you and Barton did on the girl checked out, right?" The former playboy asked. The redhead only nodded once. "Barnes, relax. I don't want to have to fix another broken—"

And a metal arm was slammed on top of a coffee machine.

"Damn it," Tony rubbed his forehead.

"Even if it hadn't checked out, that shit isn't okay," the supersoldier argued, ignoring the mass of metal he had just wrecked. He walked over to the other two, and stood with his arms crossed. "Why did you decide to check up on the camera footage, anyway?"

"Peter called. He asked me if I could get a teacher fired, and naturally I was intrigued as to why our goodie-goodie webslinger would ever ask something like that," Tony drawled. There wasn't any anger in his tone, but a practiced eye would be able to catch the way his knuckles were white where they gripped his StarkPad.

"Well, he does have a pretty strong sense of justice," Nat mused out loud. Bucky grunted and even though he was angry, a corner of his lips still managed to tilt upwards.

"He sure does. He doesn't care if people mess with him, but all bets are off if someone messes with those close to him," the man agreed. "So, you gonna get her fired Stark?"

The mechanic grinned, standing up. "Someone like that doesn't deserve to teach at all anymore, don't you think?"

—*—*—*—*—*

It was the last class of the day. Peter had returned to lunch after going to the restroom surprisingly relaxed, which made Hebi instantly suspicious. Ultimately though, she shrugged it off and they went on with their day. Besides the incident with the teacher, everything went well. There was no computer work that day, so Hebi was able to use just the Pym Tech on her glasses to get by smoothly.

Of course Flash had to ruin it.

He sidled into their last class, which he unfortunately had with them, and sat backwards on his seat in front of Peter, where he proceeded to turn to face Hebi.

She mentally prepared herself to deal with the idiot's shit for the day.

"I heard you guys talking earlier. It's not surprising someone like you was homeless, did your parents kick you out?" He asked as if it was the most clever thing he could have said. Hebi felt her friends stiffen— Ned had asked during lunch about tips in case any of them had to survive on the streets like she had, and it had turned into a whole discussion. Flash must have been eavesdropping. Peter bent over, adjusting his backpack as subtly as he could so his backpack straps were facing the bully.

"My parents are dead," Hebi said dryly, leaning back in her seat. "You're gonna have to do better than that to get under my skin, _Eugene_. I'm proud of my days on the streets, taught me how to knock someone out who was twice my size before they could rob or otherwise hurt me. Would you like a demonstration?"

Peter felt his lips twitch as he restrained a smile. Hebi's relaxed tone perfectly complemented her threatening words, and he watched with glee as Flash paled before getting ahold of himself.

"Yeah? What happened, your mom decided you were too much trouble and off herself?"

Hebi's eyebrows rose. _Cute,_ she thought sourly. _He can't even say the word 'kill.'_ "Careful Thompson, or I might accuse you of knowing too much," she replied, her tone carefully emotionless. Nonetheless, Ned, Peter and MJ could all see the stiffness in their Asian friend's spine for the restrained emotions it betrayed.

Hebi could feel the heat leech out of Flash's face again, and some distant part of her was pleased she got him to pale again. He hadn't been expecting to be right, had he? Served him right.

"Wait, she really—?" The bully couldn't seem to bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Hebi…" Peter whispered, all too familiar with the pain of losing a family member, especially to unnatural causes. He slowly and gently laid a hand on her forearm, and she found herself appreciating the gesture.

"It's fine, Pete," she told the boy easily. "If you must know, Flash," she paused and took a deep breath. "As shitty as you are, I still hope you never have to walk into your house to find one of _your_ parents cold on the ground surrounded by empty alcohol bottles. Because you can save a person from getting murdered, but it's a million times harder to save someone from themselves," Hebi's voice was soft and solemn, but she sat with her back straight and her face level to Flash's. Even when hurt or broken, she would not be seen as weak. It was bad enough her friends had seen her vulnerable once that day already, she would not let it happen again.

Flash wisely turned around and shut up. "Shit, man," MJ muttered from behind them. Hebi turned so she could face all her friends at once, and gave them as wide and genuine a smile as she could muster.

"Hey, don't worry about it guys. I was six back then, I've had plenty of time to accept what happened. It's still shitty to think of, but I'm not gonna break just because I have to talk about it for a minute," Hebi assured them. None of them looked assured, but obviously Hebi didn't notice that and turned back in her seat to let the topic rest as the teacher started the class.

Peter shared a glance with Ned and MJ, and nodded to them after a brief and silent discussion they managed to have with just their eyes. Hebi's hearing aids were on, so they didn't want to risk her hearing them if they spoke out loud.

When class got out, Peter, Ned, and MJ walked with Hebi in the middle of their group as they exited the building, as if protecting her. The former assassin definitely noticed, and was secretly amused by the whole thing. Touched too, but mostly amused.

"Do you wanna come over to the tower tonight?" Peter asked from Hebi's right, sounding hopeful. "I picked out a lego set for us to start your descent into true nerd-dom."

Hebi laughed at that, shaking her head. In reality, she _really_ wanted to do just that, but with her whole shed thing she wouldn't be able to put together a lego set without giving away the fact that she was currently blind.

"I don't know, I'm not in the mood for a puzzle or anything like that right now," she lied easily. Ned sighed dramatically.

"But you got permission to go over already! You have to. It's like, the coolest place ever!" He encouraged. Hebi thought about it, biting the inside of her cheek. She really, really wanted to go to Avengers Tower, but she knew it would be a bad idea to do it for the first time on her shed. For one, she wanted to be able to actually _see_ it the first time she went. Two, the building was filled with tech. If she was handed a StarkPad or some other thing with a screen, she'd be outed.

"Look guys, I know what you're doing and I appreciate it. Really, I do," Hebi admitted, and Ned and Peter ducked their heads when they realized they were found out. "But probably not this week. My light sensitivity probably won't wear off for a couple days, and I'd prefer to be at home where I'm more comfortable—"

"Hebi!" Foggy's voice saved the girl from further explanation, and she found herself smiling when she sensed his form waving a hand high in the air next to Matt. Hebi laughed at him making such a spectacle of himself, not embarrassed in the least.

"Oh he's stupid," Hebi muttered fondly as Matt tried to hide behind his blond friend. "What's the point of keeping my name just Teal if he's gonna show up and let everyone notice him?" She shook her head with a smile. They were wearing hats, and Foggy had on sunglasses, but that was the extent of their attempt to disguise.

"Woah, is that Matthew Murdock?" Peter asked in a bad whisper, staring at them. Hebi sighed, figures Peter would recognize two lawyers. "He took down the biggest crime boss in New York!"

"Yeah, he did," I confirmed, "And apparently he can't get his friend to understand what the word 'subtle' means. A lot like you and Ned, actually— sorry dude, I only speak the truth. I gotta go guys, see you tomorrow!" She waved to her friends before jogging off to her dad and his best friend. Luckily the two's names were far more recognizable than their faces, so there wasn't a fuss over them.

"How was school?" Matt asked when she drew up to them and they began the walk home. She paused, considered lying for a moment, then remembered she couldn't and slumped a little.

"Yeah. Decidedly Not Great," she mumbled, kicking a stone. "Peter, Ned, and MJ made it bearable, though, so that's something. And I didn't punch anyone, so that's another point in my favor."

"You were close to punching someone?" Foggy asked, eyebrows high on his face. "That's not like you. You usually have a pretty good reign on your anger," he remarked idly. Hebi shrugged noncommittally. Foggy wasn't buying it. "What happened?"

"Well. The day started with a teacher forcibly yanking my glasses off."

" _What?"_ Matt's voice was icy and his back immediately straightened.

"I closed my eyes in time, so nobody saw anything," she rushed to assure them before slumping again. "She was a real stickler for the rules, you know? Said I was violating the school code until the paperwork was officially filed and in the system, and said I couldn't have my sunglasses back until it was. Peter and the others argued and tried to get her to give them back, but even after I showed her Doctor Strange's note and explained the light sensitivity thing, she still refused," she could sense Matt's muscles just getting tenser as she went on, but she knew he wouldn't let her get away with a half-assed explanation. "I told her I couldn't open my eyes until I got my glasses back, but she still didn't budge so Peter volunteered to lead me to the office so we could take care of the paperwork. She made a big deal about staying until the office lady confirmed it was all in the system before handing them back," she finished her recounting of the ordeal.

"Peter, huh? Was he the skinny one you were talking to?" Foggy asked, as usual determined to lighten the mood. "When do we start planning the wedding?"

Hebi's face twitched and her cheeks grew slightly pink. She turned her head to glare sightlessly at the blonde, who was used to it from both her and Matt and thus remained unaffected.

"Hebi, that's not okay," Matt said softly, after elbowing his friend in the side for his comment. "Do you want me to talk to the principle for you?"

Hebi shook her head immediately. "No. MJ said she was already working on a formal complaint, Ned spent several class periods planning pranks, and I'm pretty sure Peter has a secret plan he's hiding from me because he was way too smug at lunch."

"How the hell do both of you know when somebody's being smug if you can't see it?" Foggy asked, exasperated.

"Usually? The voice," Matt answered with a shrug. "If they don't talk? It depends on the person."

Hebi nodded in agreement. "Pete didn't talk in a smug tone or anything, but he was way more relaxed and he shrugged off any questions Ned asked him about idea to get back at the teacher, where he had previously been eagerly fueling Ned," Hebi tilted her head. "The rest of the clues are hard to explain. You just kinda gotta feel it. But he was definitely smug."

"So it's _Pete_ now, is it?" Foggy teased again, immediately picking up on the nickname. Hebi wrinkled her nose at him.

"Is that all that happened?" Matt asked, and Hebi didn't answer. "Hebi?" She remained silent. "What was it?"

"I rather not have to bail you out of prison and work with Foggy to get you pardoned for murder of a minor," she answered, tone too casual. Matt furrowed his red brows, frowning.

"Okay, So one of your classmates was being a shit. Was it that Flash kid you keep complaining about?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

Matt rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

"This isn't an interrogation, I'm worried about you. What did the little asshole say this time?"

Hebi was silent for a long moment, but the way she bit the inside of her cheek and stared towards the ground told them that she was thinking and not just refusing to answer. She rose her head after a moment, sighing.

"He _may_ have, _theoretically,_ asked if my mom killed herself to get away from me."

" _Excuse me?"_ That was Foggy, that time. Hebi raised her hands to try and placate both suddenly irate adults.

"Look, he didn't know he was going to actually say something halfway accurate, okay? He was just trying to annoy me. He was fishing. He was scared shitless and went silent the second I confirmed that she killed herself, and I may have _hammered_ the point home to make him extra guilty," she told the two gently, as if trying to calm two wild animals. Matt bristled— well, he had been bristling the whole time, but he definitely got even more riled up.

"Please tell me the emphasis on the word 'hammered' was _not_ a very tasteless pun."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that."

"Hebi!" Matt ran his free hand through his hair, the hand clutching his cane barely even going through the unnecessary motions of scanning the ground ahead.

"Kid, using humor to deflect your pain isn't the best tactic in the world," Foggy said slowly, frowning. Hebi shrugged, and shoved her hands into her pockets.

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly the shining beacon of mental health. And no, I don't want a therapist. Wouldn't trust anyone. Look, I'll talk to one of you when I'm ready, but I'm not right now. Can we change the subject?"

After some heavy hesitation, the men agreed and began a half-hearted discussion about their own day that slowly grew more and more relaxed.

—*—*—*—*—*

"How was school, Pete? You know, besides the obvious that I'm working on," Tony asked when his son got home. The young mutate sighed, shoulders slumping as he walked over and plopped into the rolly chair and slid over to be next to his dad in the lab. "Geeze, that bad?"

"Well, not really," Peter grumbled slowly, picking up a small project he was working on and starting to delve into it as Tony worked on a suit next to him. "Most of it was fine after the whole issue with the teacher. Along with the firing thing, MJ and Ned have their own revenge plan in the works. If you thought MJ alone was scary, those two teamed up is a nightmare," try as he might though, Peter just couldn't keep his voice as light and carefree as usual. His dad noticed, and looked up with a slight frown.

"Peter, what else happened then? If it's not the teacher thing then it's something else."

Peter tinkered for a moment, not looking up when he said; "Have I ever told you that I'm really thankful you don't drink anymore? Like, I really, _really_ appreciate it. I know it had to take a lot of willpower to quit, and—"

"Pete," Tony stopped working altogether and spoke softly. "I'm glad to hear that, but where is this coming from?" Peter wasn't even tinkering anymore, just clutching his tools tightly. The screwdriver in his right hand started to bend slightly to the side. That just set off warning bells for Tony, because Peter almost _never_ lost control of his super strength. It was kinda crazy, when he really thought about it, just how good of a handle the kid had on it.

"Flash was being a dick. Except, ever since Hebi stood up for me last week he's been focusing on her more than me, you know? Well, he said something about her homelessness. I didn't tell you that yet, did I?" He ran a hand through his hair, even while still clutching a tool. "She was homeless for three years before she was adopted. Anyway, she wasn't bothered by what he said and evens said she was proud of her homelessness and made a pretty funny threat. But then…"

"Then?" Tony pressed gently, knowing it was best to just let Peter's roundabout thought process work itself out.

"Then Flash asked this really random question. He didn't… only Ned, MJ and I know about Hebi being an orphan. And Flash asked if… if her mom killed herself because of her."

Tony took a slow breath to steady himself. That Flash kid didn't know how far was too far, did he?

"And, Hebi… she didn't look like she was angry at first, you know? Until I realized she was like you. She hid it deep, and I could only tell with the way her back was rigid. And she," Peter finally put his tools down, resigning himself to straightening out the bent screwdriver later. "She said her mom _did_ kill herself. She drank herself to death, Dad. Hebi was six years old and she walked into her house to find her mom's corpse surrounded by liquor bottles."

Tony closed his eyes, jaw clenched. Now he understood Peter's mood. Many people had worried about Tony making the same mistake back when he was still an alcoholic, of walking in to find him dead. By the time he met Peter, he had already managed to cut down his drinking substantially but he didn't completely stop until a month or two after officially adopting him.

Peter was worried as hell about Hebi, and angry that she had to relive bad memories like that, but he was also imagining himself in her position. Tony realized that, and turned so he was fully facing Peter.

"Hey. Look at me," the older man ordered gently. It took a second, but Peter slowly obeyed. Tony put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to worry about me. I've been sober for more than a year and a half, we managed to avoid that mess. Now, as for your friend. Step one, tell me what she likes so we can plan a way to cheer her up."

Peter relaxed, comforted by his dad's confidence and the fact that he had a plan. He nodded with a weak smile. "Okay. What's step two?"

"Planning what venue to rent out for your wedding."

"DAD!"

—*—*—*—*—*

Footsteps echoed across the chipped and cracked tiles as I walked forward, nudging the woman gently with one small hand. The light flooding in from the doorway illuminated her in a perfect line, like a runway carpet of golden energy. I could almost imagine her walking along it to leave.

Her soft hazel eyes were glassy, clouded, and sightless. The air stank of alcohol, it was cloying and thick. I felt as if I would drown in it like she did. One of my feet accidentally brushed a bottle, sending it and the small tower it had been supporting clattering across the floor in a rain of both disorienting cacophony and sharp shards of glass.

My mother's stiff body never so much as twitched.

I curled into her lap and cried into her shirt until I felt myself being peeled off of her an hour later.

I woke up much more suddenly than with my other nightmares, as if being tugged viciously away from my slumber as I had been tugged away from my mother's body all those years ago. It took me until I smelled Matt’s familiar scent and “saw” his lump of heat in front of me to realize that I had been letting out a low whine like an injured dog since I woke up.

Then the lawyer gathered me in his arms, and let me weep into his warm shirt. He understood. He was safe. He was warm. He was _alive._

I'd do anything to keep it that way.

—*—*—*—*—*

**Sorry for the state of your hearts, this was necessary for Hebi's character.**

**until next chapter~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for this boring transition/filler chapter. It shall get better in Chapter 11.

The next day was largely uneventful, other than Peter being a bit more distracted than usual for some reason. After school, I visited Hank again and found out that he had been waiting for me to realize the electronic issue and already had a device ready for me that was compatible with the machine on my glasses.

But I had finally figured out the direction I wanted to take in my personal research, and Wednesday was the day I'd begin. Shed or no shed, I was not going to stall. It helped that I didn't really need to read any labels or work with chemicals for the beginning.

In chemistry, where I was actually advanced past what the teacher was explaining, Peter was the only one to notice that what I was scribbling away on a piece of paper was not what was being taught. It figures it was him, because he was one of the only other people just as advanced (if not more so) as I was in that particular subject.

"Hebi," he whispered, directly to my right across the aisle, where he shared a table with Ned. MJ was on my left, sandwiching me between them. He was close enough for the sound to easily be picked up by my hearing aids, even though they weren't turned up very high since I didn't need to pick up every word the teacher was saying. I turned my head over to him, raising an eyebrow in question. "What are you doing? Is that blood?"

I blinked, and "looked" down where I had successfully gotten a small vial of my own blood set up in the drawer of my and MJ's desk. I was going to work with actual snake blood, but that would be hard to obtain so I was stuck with my own for the moment.

"It's a personal project of mine," I whispered back, and went back to facing my paper. Thankfully, Hank's machine worked with raising the temperature of pencil graphite too, or else my own scribbles would have been impossible for me to read. I kept a hearing-aided ear out to make sure the teacher was still droning on and ignoring us. "If I make any good headway, I'll tell you about it. But I'm just beginning it, so it's not very exciting yet," I informed him softly. I was still writing out hypotheses, things I wanted to test, and possible ways for me to examine the blood. I was also writing out ideas for how to extract specific strands or compounds of DNA, once I narrowed down what I needed, and other such ideas. "I'll be staying after school today to work on it, so don't wait for me."

"Hebi," the teacher called out when she realized I was talking. "Solve the equation on the board?" I raised my head, moving my hand to adjust the settings on my glasses as if I was just adjusting their position, and allowed the device to increase the temperature of the chalk on the board for me. Once it was in focus, I grinned and rattled out the answer before going right back to my work. The woman huffed and continued on, obviously realizing I was plenty caught up.

"Your personal project deals with blood?" Peter asked after a moment of pretending to pay attention. I smiled, pleased at his interest. I turned my head towards him, realizing with a flash of amusement that his nose was scrunched up in distaste. I bit the inside of my lip to keep myself from laughing— if I had actually been able to see it with my eyes, I might not have been as successful.

"DNA," I corrected softly. "And that's as far I'm going to elaborate for now," I tilted my head in thought. Could I extract DNA from a snake shed? Blood would be easier to work with on an experimental level, but sheds would be easier to get my hands on.

At lunch, I was still scribbling notes even as I listened to my friends converse and shoved food in my mouth every now and then. Matt had decided to switch things up so I didn't get tired of Japanese lunches, and even though he packed my lunch in a bento box still it was just miniature sandwiches, fruit, and vegetable soup in a cute penguin thermos he had Foggy buy for him off a Japanese website.

Plus, some iced tea I brewed for myself in a cute bottle from the same website that I had bought for myself several weeks earlier.

"Dude, internal hurts more," Peter was arguing with Ned over what injuries were worse, broken bones or internal injuries. "Right, Hebi?"

I raised my head, and then tilted it in thought. I had had just about every injury in existence, so I supposed I was a pretty good authority for that argument.

"Well. Broken bones can hurt more sometimes, especially if they're visible and you find yourself staring at blood and maybe even showing bone. It's just really gross," I wrinkled my nose. "But," I said before Ned could celebrate. "Internal injuries can just be more stressful over all because you _can't_ see what's wrong, so you get paranoid that maybe it's not being healed right or the doctors overlooked something when patching you up. Plus, your torso is just more sensitive in general and it's the center of movement in the body so you'd bother your injuries a lot more easily than broken bones," I shrugged. "I guess it really just depends on the exact injury. A ruptured spleen hurts a hell of a lot more than a broken toe, for example. But if you break your arm or shin bad enough, then that could trump it. It just depends," I went back to my work.

"Did you actually _get_ all those injuries?" Ned asked, curious. I groaned in despair as I wrote.

"Un-fucking-fortunately. Believe it or not, my body used to be incredibly frail and I was disaster on legs as a kid. I would climb on top of anything and everything, but I was also the clumsiest person I knew. It was a horrible match," I confided in them. "After I got into dancing and martial arts, it got better. Now you can't even tell I used to have two left feet or that I ruptured my spleen just from falling off the _monkey bars_ at my school's playground when I was five."

"What the hell?" MJ asked, putting down her book to look at me incredulously. "A ruptured spleen is what people commonly get from car crashes!"

"And yet a fall from a five-foot-high monkey bar burst mine into bits that were too small for the doctors to even try removing," I agreed solemnly.

"Wow," Peter said from his spot across from me, shaking his head in disbelief. "I was pretty clumsy when I was little too, but wow."

I laughed, nodding. "Yeah, it was bad. It didn't help that I used to have mild asthma, so the teachers took a while to figure out if my shortness of breath was from that or my pain. Spoiler alert: it was my pain," I told them with a nostalgic smirk. "It was absolutely horrifying at the time, but now I just look back and think about how much of an idiot I was back then."

"You were _five,"_ Ned argued. "Some idiocy is expected."

I shrugged, still smiling. "Yeah. My mom was so mad at me back then, I'll never forget it. I was always running to the nurse's office to get out of class even when I wasn't sick or hurt, so my mom didn't think anything was actually wrong. Three hours after the end of school, and I'm finally taken to the ER," I sighed nostalgically. "Good times."

"You have a very odd definition of good times," Peter told me, sounding equal parts amused and concerned.

"I'll never get a good picture of you in distress, will I?" MJ just asked blandly from my side, disappointed. I stuck my tongue out at her unrepentantly.

"If we ever play an endurance game, you're on my team," Ned immediately voiced. "You hear that guys? I call Hebi. She's my ticket to victory."

"You would never actually agree to an endurance game Ned," MJ retorted. "Besides, why would we ever do that? Hacking the pentagon sounds more fun."

I snapped my fingers, pointing to her with a wide smile. "A girl after my own heart," I said dramatically. "We shall break rules and learn all the dirty secrets."

"Should you even be allowed near the computer hacking the most secure database in the country?" Peter asked slowly, tone teasing. "Your presence might spontaneously disrupt the connection."

I put a hand over my heart as all three of my friends laughed at that. "I resent that!" I said in the haughtiest tone I could muster. In reality, hacking was another essential assassin skill and as such I was well versed in it. It was nowhere near my favorite thing to do, but I could do it competently. "On the contrary, I am a fine hacker. Not anywhere near the same level as Nedry dear," I waved my hand to indicate our resident coding genius. "But I am more than capable. It's exposed wires and open circuits that don't like me."

"And monkey bars," Ned pitched in helpfully, making us all laugh.

—*—*—*—*—*

"I mean, the problem is that I don't know how much of it is psychosomatic," I was telling Matt over the phone, which was on speaker to the side of me as I used one of the lab's microscopes to inspect a drop of my blood. I'd need a much stronger one later, of which I would shamelessly use my connection to Hank and Pym Tech to get ahold of, but for the initial observations a normal one would do. Of course, I was still on my shed so I wasn't using my eyes to observe. Instead, I had the digital microscope hooked up to a computer screen, which had Hank's latest device attached to it to allow me to read the screen with my heat vision.

Not the most accurate thing in the world, but it was serviceable for my impatient self. It helped that I was the only one in the chem lab. All the chemicals were locked up, so there was no teacher in the room to watch me.

"What do you mean?" Matt's voice asked from the other side of the line.

"Snakes have a natural repulsion to alcohol. That's why it's a common practice to drop a couple drops of vodka or other alcohol into a snake's mouth if it bites you, to make it let go. They hate the stuff. But I also have intense psychological trauma related to alcohol and it's very repulsive scent, ala my mommy issues, so I don't know if my really strong aversion to the stuff is biological or psychological."

"Ah," Matt said eloquently. I jotted down the basic observations I got from my blood, and sighed in frustration. Most of my readings were skewed because of the trace radiation in my blood and DNA, which was changing the basic structure of it ever so slightly to make a difference. I wrote it all down, and then removed the sample slide of my blood from under the microscope so I could safely burn it when I got home.

"What now?" Matt asked when he heard my annoyed sigh.

"If I wanted to give people superpowers, I'd have somewhere to start," I said simply. "But I _don't,_ so I don't. I need to examine normal snake DNA, my blood has too many different things going on for me to easily isolate what I'm looking for."

"You aren't allowed to leave the city to look for snakes."

I rolled my eyes from behind my eye caps, packing everything away and putting Hank's computer-reading tech in my pocket. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and grabbed my phone.

"Wasn't gonna. I'm making a stop at an exotic pet store tomorrow after school, FYI. I should be able to ask for snake sheds pretty easily. Then I can make a call to the nearest exotic veterinary college and see if I can request a few sample blood vials be sent over."

"Don't forget to mention that you're a Midtown Tech student, that school's name has some serious pull in the science world," Matt suggested easily. I clicked the call off speaker as I entered the empty hallways and made my way out of the school.

"I will," I promised. "I'm heading back to the apartment now. In a way, it's kind of a good thing I need to go somewhere to get DNA samples," I mused out loud. I heard Matt hum curiously. "Well, Peter's been trying to get me to go over to his house. You know, the Tower," I lowered my voice a little on the place's name so I didn't attract attention. There weren't very many people walking around the front of the school so long after the school day had ended, but better safe than sorry. "But obviously I can't go over this week. The more legitimate things I have to do, the easier it will be for me to stall until Monday. Oh yeah, that reminds me. Can I go over to Peter's place Monday after school?"

Matt chuckled, probably rolling his eyes from where he was in his office. "Yeah, sure. But I'm going to come pick you up so I can meet him first. So tell him to walk with you so you can meet me a couple blocks from the school, okay? That way we don't make a scene in front of it."

"Sounds good," I agreed.

The rest of the week was a sightless blur. I was spending the whole time studying one of the snake sheds I managed to get from a pet store, and isolating the DNA from it. When Friday rolled around, I had ten pages—front _and_ back— of notes filled out and I was still writing more.

"Okay, you need a break," MJ announced after school Friday, as I was using my glasses to "read" over my notes as we walked. "You've only looked up from your little 'personal project'," I could sense MJ's hands rise up to make finger quotations around those last two words, "To join in on some of our conversations or work on classwork. But you're going to burn out at this rate. Take the dorks up on their offer to visit the Tower already, they're getting annoying about it," the curly haired girl jabbed a thumb in the direction of the boys.

And suddenly I was glad for my temporary blindness, because both of them almost certainly had puppy dog faces on.

"Not today," I declined again, sighing. It was getting harder and harder to say no to the guys. "I told you, I like being somewhere familiar and comfortable when my eyes are going through their light sensitive phase. It should be over by Monday though, so I can come over then if you want?"

"Yes!" Peter cheered, pumping a fist in the air as we went down the stairs in front of the school.

"But," I held up a finger, making him droop in disappointment that there was a catch. "My dad wants to meet you first, so he's gonna wait for us a couple blocks that way," I jabbed my thumb is the direction of me and Matt's apartment. "So that we don't make a huge scene in front of the school. We can head over to your place right after though."

Peter hummed, bobbing his head up and down. "Sounds good. I'll tell my family about it, they'll probably want to meet him too, even though Uncle Clint and Aunt Nat already did."

I grimaced at the reminder. "I really hope they never pay us a surprise visit like that again," I groaned, sighing. Peter just chuckled nervously, unable to make that promise. A car honked, and Peter waved towards us.

"That's me," he told us. "I'll see you tomorrow for more Mechanics 101, right? Ten in the morning like before?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Peterrrrr," I groaned dramatically. "Not right nowwwwwww," I whined.

"You better have that laptop fixed by Monday, then!" He reminded me before jogging off to enter the expensive-smelling car that had pulled up to pick him up.

—*—*—*—*—*

I opened my eyes on Monday, peeled off my detached eye caps, and took in the light flooding into the room with unparalleled joy.

"Finalyyyyyyy!" I cheered, stretching out of my sleep-doughnut. "Oh I never thought I'd like the color purple so much," I moaned dramatically, talking about the bright neon sign that was still shining directly into our living room. Matt chuckled, and I sat up. "Are those blueberry pancakes?" I asked when I tasted the air.

"Yup," my dad confirmed, grinning back at me for a moment before flipping the one he had cooking on the pan.

"Have I ever told you that you're the best? Because you're the best," I praised as I got up and joined him in all my pajama-clad glory.

"Whatever you say, weirdo," he shot back fondly, using his spatula to slide the finished breakfast dish onto a plate and hand it to me before pouring more batter onto the hot pan.

I shoveled a few forkfuls of the fluffy delight into my mouth happily before getting up to make my breakfast tea, and hummed in thought. I still had about twenty minutes before I had to leave for school— plenty of time. I grabbed a few assorted containers of herbs and a couple empty jars, juggling it all precariously in my arms as I went back to my seat. Matt raised an eyebrow at me, wondering what the hell I was doing.

"I just realized it might be a good idea to take a gift," I told him simply. "I mean, Clint and Natasha—" man it felt weird calling them that, "—might be a little suspicious since they know about my background and everything, but they can suck it up and do tests on it to make sure it's clean if they want. I don't know how many of them actually like tea, so I'm just gonna bring two of my favorite blends," I explained. I shoved another bite of pancake into my mouth with one hand, and measured out the proper amount of herbs for my two best-selling home blends of teas on my website. It didn't take long. I sealed the containers and gave them a good shake to mix everything up, slapped on one of my sticker labels onto each lid, and then packed them in a cute drawstring bag with a few reusable tea bags.

I hummed, looking at the plain drawstring bag. I usually shipped my teas wrapped in one of them, inside the boxes and other packaging, whenever I shipped out an order from my online store. But it still seemed a bit plain.

"Maybe I'll see about starting up some store merch," I mused out loud. "I mean, WickedTea is doing really well, so I can afford it even if it doesn't sell. What do you think?"

"I think that if you do that, you'll somehow trick me into wearing one of your t-shirts to work and Foggy will never let me live it down," He deadpanned even though he knew the cotton shirts I was likely to order would never make their way onto his body because of how he thought of cotton as "itchy and uncomfortable."

Then again, we both knew I'd find a way to get one in silk just to trick him into wearing it if I really wanted to.

"Awesome. I'll start with bags, shirts, and baseball caps," I decided as I shoved the last bit of pancake into my mouth and my gifts into my backpack. Then I ran into Matt's room to grab my clothes from his closet and get ready for the day.

When I arrived to school without my thick purple tinted sunglasses, I could actually _see_ Peter and Ned deflate with relief. I rolled my eyes at them, making sure they saw it as I pulled up even with my three friends.

"Back to normal," I assured them. "And _yes, b_ efore you ask, I'm still okay with going to the Tower after school."

"Yesss!" Ned hissed, doing a little fist pump in joy. I snorted at him fondly, shaking my head. Peter was beaming too, and holy hell that smile was way more blinding after a week of not being able to see.

"Finally. Come on losers, before we're late", MJ drawled in her usual bored tone before turning and leading the way to English. I snorted, shaking my head in amusement and walking in between Ned and Peter as we followed her.

"We can finally show you the wonders of Legos," Peter was saying as we made a quick stop at our lockers, which were sadly far apart so we had to do it one at a time. MJ, as usual, completely ditched us to go to hers first. She'd meet up with us again before we got to class. When we got to mine, I traded the jars of tea I brought for the textbooks and journals I needed, which of course caught my two fellow nerds' eyes.

"What's that?" Ned asked, pointing to the bag. I smirked at him.

"It's a gift for Peter's family. Figured it was a nice gesture. But you don't get to know what it is," I teased, closing my locker before the hacker could try to peek.

"But it's a gift for the _Avengers,"_ he moaned in despair, making both me and Peter shush him, as usual, for being too loud. Luckily nobody paid attention to us losers, but still. Ned needed to learn how to keep a secret.

"It's nothing super expensive or special," I argued, frowning at him. As we walked, MJ casually strode over to rejoin us right as we reached the classroom. I briefly filled her in on what we were talking about before turning back to the techie. "I'll bring a smaller version for you tomorrow if you're _that_ jealous, but I doubt you're gonna like it. I don't even know if Pete's family is gonna like it, it's just the only thing I could think of," I admitted as we all sat down.

"Well, there's a lot of them so I'm sure _somebody's_ gonna love it," Peter assured me, patting my back. "Who knows, I might even end up stealing it all for myself," he joked. I snorted.

"If you do, tell me. I can get more," I agreed.

"You sound like a drug dealer right now," MJ butted in, raising an eyebrow and smirking at us slyly. I grimaced at her.

"If I was, I'd totally only sell the best shit," I joked. "But no, I'm a model citizen, thank you very much. It wounds me that you'd doubt my virtue," I held the back of my wrist against my forehead in exaggerated dramatics, pretending to faint as I leaned backwards to sprawl my head and upper back over her table behind me and cover her papers. "I'm devastated. Betrayed. How could you break my heart so?"

Ned and Peter laughed at me unashamedly, their laughter just getting louder when MJ only grinned and shoved me off of her table and I fell out of my seat because of her. I could have stayed in it, but I was trying to appear normal so I didn't.

Plus, making the boys laugh was often the goal of my day. It made me feel a little less like a monster every time I succeeded. That time was no different as I grinned up at them from my spot on the floor before getting up, dusting myself off, and sitting back down.

—*—*—*—*—*

Peter walked next to Hebi as the four of them walked out of the building after the end of the day. "You coming too, Ned?" The young vigilante asked his oldest friend, who smiled with a sly sparkle in his eyes before shaking his head.

"Nah man, my mom texted me. She wants me home early today for something. Have fun with Hebi!" The boy took off before Peter could call him out for the fact that he had forgotten his phone that day. He shrugged it off and turned to MJ, eyebrow raised in question. The curly haired girl snorted at the silent question, shaking her head.

"No way, I'm not gonna be a third wheel anytime soon. Have fun dorks," she waved at them before walking away with her nose in a book. Hebi blinked after them, slight confusion all over her face. Peter grinned at the way her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, but he could tell that she wasn't curious enough to worry about their mutual friends' odd behavior for long.

"Great. First Foggy was teasing me about dating you, now Ned and MJ?" Hebi asked with a long suffering sigh. Peter huffed a laugh in agreement.

"Oh my god, you too? My dad is constantly making jokes about us getting married. I hope he tones it down while you're over, but knowing him I won't keep my hopes up," he shared with the Asian girl. She laughed, shaking her head as they walked side by side down the street to meet up with her dad.

"Hey, I'm gonna look over my notes for my personal project until we run into my dad okay? Just wanna make sure I got everything sorted out before focusing on relaxing for the rest of the day with the World's Mightiest Heroes and their nerdy boy-child," she teased him easily, pulling out her latest sheet of notes even as she spoke. Peter waved her away.

"Don't worry about it, I gotta check up on where my dad is anyway," he assured her, holding up his phone before looking down at it and starting to tap the screen. The two of them walked in comfortable silence like that for a few minutes, only looking up when they needed to cross the street. Peter was the first to finish his phone-errands, shoving the device in his pockets and just looking around at the scenery as they walked.

That's why he was the first to pick up on the poorly-disguised Tony Stark and Steve Rogers standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of them. His dad was wearing a thin black-and-grey hoodie and slightly-more-nondescript-than-usual black sunglasses and jeans. Steve was in a heavier jet black hoodie and a baseball cap.

Peter really had to have a talk with that guy about wearing shirts and jackets in a size too small. The blonde still stood out in the streets because of his all-too-noticeable large figure. The webslinger sighed, looking over to warn Hebi only to realize she was so deep in reading over her notes that she was _mouthing_ them to herself. He knew from experience that she wouldn't hear him when she was like that, and shook his head in resignation.

Steve stood directly in her path, smiling disarmingly when he saw them.

"Hello there—"

And Hebi _walked around him_. Without ever looking up or acknowledging his massive presence right in front of her. Peter covered his mouth to muffle an amused snort. Tony decided to try his own luck, the much shorter hero stepping right in front of her so that she would almost _have to_ bump into him. He didn't give her any time to register his presence, she _should have_ bumped into him.

But instead, she just skipped backward, turned, and walked backwards around him without ever even _glancing_ up from her notes. She was still mouthing them to herself.

Tony gawked, a little caught off guard. Steve jogged over, about to put a gentle hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

"Excuse me, um," the supersoldier started to say kindly, but Hebi easily sidestepped his grip without looking. It wasn't until a cane shot out, and she jumped over it, that she was startled out of her trance. She blinked rapidly, looking around her. And then a red haired body slammed into her.

She grunted, letting herself fall.

"Oh! Sorry, are you okay?" The man's voice asked, concern laced through his voice that Hebi recognized as being very fake. She sat on the ground for a moment, holding her notes in her hands, before laughing.

"Damn it, Matt, you did that on purpose!" She accused cheerfully, standing up and dusting herself off. The red headed man just smiled, lifting his white cane and collapsing it. Hebi was still chuckling as she put her notes away. It wasn't until her backpack was zipped up that she looked over at the three other surprised men with her, and she blinked as if just noticing their presence.

 _Oh, so that's who those heat signatures are,_ she thought to herself in epiphany.

"I didn't realize you were that observant, Hebi," Peter was the first to speak. "How'd you jump over the cane like that, you were completely lost to the world in your notes," he asked her. It had looked uncomfortably similar to how he reacted when he was distracted and was just reacting to his Spidey-sense instinctively.

"I'm pretty good at sensing when people and things are close by," she answered casually, hooking her thumbs in her pockets. "It's a learned skill. Comes in handy at home, when both my dad and I are walking around without looking where we're going," her grin turned impish. "Of course, he's never watching where he's going, but what else is new?"

Matt laughed, shaking his head at her in mock reproach. "Was that this Peter boy you've been mentioning?" He asked her, and she caught the hint and slipped into their normal charade. "And who was the man trying to talk to you, a minute ago?"

Hebi moved over and tapped Matt's arm gently, allowing him to gently grab her bicep like she had done to Peter the previous week. With practiced ease, Hebi maneuvered Matt to properly face the three men.

"Yes Matt, that was Peter," she confirmed. "He's about five feet in front of you and slightly to the left, now. His dad and Steve Rogers are here too. Steve is three feet in front and to your right, Tony is about two feet left of him," she told him as if she always had to explain proximity to him. Which she did, but only for show when they weren't alone or with only Foggy and Karen. "Peter, Mister Stark, Captain Rogers, I'm Hebi and is this my dad," I introduced them. Matt held out his free hand, his cane hanging by it's strap from one of his fingers that was around my bicep.

"Matthew Murdock," he introduced himself with professional ease and charm, smiling at them kindly. It was, as Hebi dubbed it, his "I am an innocent, harmless blind guy and you shall love me" smile.

"Ohmygod," Peter gushed before either of his family members could speak up. He walked forward energetically, taking the Lawyer's hand with a large smile. "I thought your blonde friend was Hebi's dad! Oh wait, do you know he's blond? He's blond. I'm being very awkward and I'm sorry, but oh my god I read all about your case against Wilson Fisk and I am a huge fan. And I've heard nothing but good news about you and—"

"Pete, you've been shaking his hand for twenty solid seconds," Hebi interjected, clearly biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She glanced over at her dad, who was caught off guard and slightly overwhelmed, but obviously pleased. Peter, at Hebi's words, instantly let go with a long string of mumbled apologies that finally broke Matt and made him laugh happily.

"Don't worry about it! Not many people recognize me until they hear my name, which I can relate to," his subtle blind joke made Peter relax slightly. "And it's always nice to know I'm doing something right. Keep an eye on Hebi at school for me, will you? She told me about what happened last Monday," Matt's face twisted into a disgruntled frown. "But she begged me not to do anything. Apparently a teacher having a power trip isn't a good enough reason for her to lose her job because Hebi can 'handle it,'" Matt made finger quotations with one hand.

" _Matt,"_ Hebi whined, wrinkling her nose in embarrassment, but he just plowed on ahead.

"And apparently Flash is just 'a pubescent idiot not worth your time killing,'" again with the finger quotations, "So my hands are tied. I'm relying on you, got it?"

Peter nodded so rapidly Hebi wondered if his head might fall off. Noticing Matt probably wouldn't catch the gesture, he nervously stuttered out: "y-yes of course! She's my friend, obviously I'll look out for her, Mister Murdock, sir."

Matt smiled at him in thanks, and that's when the other two adults decided to finally join in. Steve stepped up first, smiling at Hebi and taking the hand Matt had held out again at the sound of footsteps.

"Steve Rogers," the man introduced himself kindly. "Thank you for letting Hebi come over today. It's always nice to meet Peter's friends."

Matt shook his head, grinning. "Not at all, I'm just happy she _has_ friends. She isn't the best at socializing all the time, so we're lucky Peter and their other two friends took the first step."

"Mmmmaaaaaatttttt," Hebi whined, looking at him with an exaggerated pout. He ignored her, and Tony came up to shake his hand next.

"You know who I am," the billionaire said easily. Steve elbowed the man's side, and Tony threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "What? He does, it's simple process of elimination Rogers. He's blind, not dumb," the engineer snarked at his friend, turning back to Matt. With a perfectly casual voice, he continued: "I am so sorry Steve is such an ableist—"

" _Tony_!" Steve interrupted, embarrassed and disapproving. "Sorry, Mister Murdock. I'm afraid Tony is always like this," the supersoldier apologized solemnly. Matt just chuckled.

"Don't worry about it Captain, I prefer it when people treat me frankly," Matt started, only briefly interrupted when Rogers told Matt to call him Steve. Matt's smile briefly widened. "Steve, then. He's right you know, I'm not going to be offended just because he's treating me like a normal person. Hebi makes blind jokes all the time, and I make deaf jokes right back at her. Stark's humor doesn't bother me."

"See?" Tony held his hands out wide in triumph. "He has sense. I like you, Murdock. You have a phone number? If our kids are gonna get married one day—"

" _Dad!"_ Peter interrupted, face red with a furious blush. He was thoroughly ignored.

"— Then I should be able to call you, don't you think?"

Matt nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket as Tony did the same. They swapped numbers, Hebi putting Tony's number in Matt's phone for him. She set Iron Man as the ringtone, so the redhead would never mistake who was calling.

She couldn't wait until he found out about that.

"Test call," Tony said out of nowhere, and the song that blasted from Matt's phone made a shit-eating grin spread across the teenager's face even as Matt did his best to glare at her sightlessly. It startled a laugh out of Tony, and Peter was doubled over almost instantly.

"Okay, that's it," Tony said, amusement thick in his voice. "You're officially my favorite of Peter's friends. Sorry Pete, inform Ted of his demotion would you?"

"Wait for it," Hebi interrupted, holding up a finger before Matt could shut off the ringer. "It's a double zinger."

_Can he see or is he blind?_

"Okay, that's enough," Matt said after he heard that line, hanging up the phone and shoving it in his pocket. "Just for that, I'm not buying cheesecake tomorrow."

"You loooooveeee me," Hebi teased, much to the amusement of the three onlookers. Matt rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"For some reason," he agreed with fake annoyance. "Alright, we've stalled long enough. Home before eleven, you know the rules."

Hebi gave a mock salute just for Steve's sake, making the man roll his eyes, and chirped a cheery: "sir, yes sir!" Just to hammer it home. Matt shook his head with a sigh.

"I do not take responsibility for any chaos she causes while with you guys," Matt warned.

Steve chuckled. "I think we can handle it," he assured, and Matt rose an eyebrow.

"Famous last words," he said with a grin. "Don't destroy the world, Hebi. Nice meeting you, Steve. You too, Stark," he nodded once before extending his cane again and walking away.

"Alrighty!" Tony said, clapping his hands. "Lets go, wonderland awaits!"

—*—*—*—*—*

**I wanted to continue, but this is a good length already and I don't want it to be too long. So I guess I'll cut it here.**

**And the stuff Hebi talks about with the ruptured spleen? That's not BS. That actually happened to me (omg, I've given my fictional character one of my real experiences nooooooo). I was nine though, not five, but yeah everything else is almost exactly what happened to me. My mom was definitely mad, and I was definitely the Girl Who Cried Hurt. So. Learn from my near-death experiences kids, and only go to the nurse when you actually need to.**

**see you next chapter~**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heheh. Warning; dramatic irony runs rampant unrepentantly. 
> 
> I apologize for nothing. 
> 
> Also. So this story is after my version of Civil War, but Ant Man and the Wasp hasn’t happened yet I guess... because I haven’t actually seen that movie yet, oops. But Hope is still the Wasp and they occasionally pop over to the Tower for dinner because you know Scott wants to jump on every chance to take advantage of free food.

Peter was not stupid. Naive, maybe, but even before being adopted, before Aunt May's death, Tony had called him a genius. Even now that they were family, Tony didn't unnecessarily compliment anyone— not even Peter. He only said what he honestly thought if he wasn't being sarcastic.

So it was only natural that Peter knew that Hebi was not someone to show all her emotions like an open book. Sure, he'd seen her laugh and joke and be ridiculous, but he could tell it wasn't all of her. When certain topics came up, she'd hesitate to speak for a split second and Peter would see an invisible mask slip over her face. She dumbed down her reactions to things, or deflected, or hid her feelings. Peter didn't know why, and he didn't always know what she hid, but he saw her hiding even as she laughed.

So he made it a point to focus on her expression when they got to Avenger's Tower. She didn't slide up against the window of the sleek car Tony had them driven in after Matt left, but her eyes were wide as she took in the massive structure. Pete could see the conscious effort she put into keeping her body casual and still, but the childlike awe in her eyes was something he hadn't seen from her yet. Unsure if he'd get another chance to see this emotion from her again, he made sure to watch it out of the corner of his eye as he rambled to his dad about their day. Hebi looked over as they pulled around the back of the tower, and Peter saw the mask slip down and the awe dim in her eyes behind that invisible veil. She smirked.

"Flash tried to be an ass again," she pitched in when Peter got to talking about their calculus class that day. Tony's gaze switched over to her to show he was listening. Hebi's smirk widened. "It was hilarious because he hasn't spoken to any of us since he screwed up last week, and so he stuck his foot in his mouth trying to apologize and be a jerk at the same time. It was priceless," she told him, Tony snorting in amusement. As Happy, who was driving, parked the car, Steve looked over to her with furrowed brows.

"Screwed up? What did he do? I know he's been bothering Peter for years, but…" he trailed off, and Peter knew Hebi caught what went unsaid. That Peter hadn't mentioned his bully much at all during the new school year, which Hebi would know was because Flash hadn't been bothering _him._

Tony frowned, looking over the girl with very well hidden concern. To almost everyone, he would appear relaxed and nonchalant. Peter, however, could see his slight worry for this girl he just met. He didn't mention it.

"Peter told me about that," the philanthropist admitted after he got out, and the kids and supersoldier joined him. Peter watched as Hebi stood outside, looking up at the building towering over her. The teen found himself trying to hide a grin as she actually let her jaw drop a little bit and took in the scene with even more carefully quiet awe than before. Even Steve saw, and hid a chuckle behind one hand.

"Hebi?" Tony asked, making the girl blink and look over to the billionaire who was smirking with smug amusement. "I was asking if you needed me to get that brat kicked out of Midtown for you."

"Oh," Hebi calmed herself down, and Peter sighed when he saw her emotions box themselves away again and only show what she wanted them to see. Honestly, what was with him and getting close to emotionally difficult people? Hebi straightened her back and gave Tony a smirk that was eerily similar to the older man's own. "Don't worry about it, he isn't worth the trouble. Besides, I have a thick skin. Didn't Peter tell you about the three years I spent homeless? In New York City of all places? A teenaged idiot isn't gonna bother me," she assured him before going back to looking up at Avengers Tower. Peter sprung forward, leading her into the building and starting to ramble to her about everything he had planned as he led her through the back entrance.

With the girl suitably distracted, Tony and Steve shared a glance, both of them slightly frowning.

"I like her," Tony said even though his frown didn't lift. "My favorite of Peter's friends, like I said, ten out of ten would probably blow something up with her."

"Tony," Steve said lowly as they walked side by side to follow the kids slowly. "Tell me I'm not the only one that saw a younger, female version of you for a second when she answered your question."

Tony was silent for a moment. "Well, she has more friends now than I ever did back then, and she's not in MIT yet so it's not like a carbon copy or anything."

"Tony."

"Yeah, I know," he admitted softly to the unsaid words Steve had implied with just his name. "But she's got Peter. That's the best medicine for trauma. Now cheer up and let's go embarrass my son."

—*—*—*—*—*

I walked through the building with Peter, which was a nerd's paradise. I found myself smiling as I looked around at the sleek interior and felt the buzzing of technology all around. I was glad I wore my thick-soles shoes, because the whole _building_ was vibrating with energy. Footsteps, electricity— was that an explosion three floors up? Normally I wouldn't have been able to sense something that far away, but the vibrations were pretty distinct.

"Oh no," Peter said with a long suffering sigh before turning his head back. "Dad, George blew something up again!" He told the hero as they all filed into an elevator with… no buttons? I scanned around it with my eyes, wondering how it ran without buttons.

"Really?" Tony asked, wrinkling his nose slightly with a frown. "I swear, the interns just don't know how to operate in the grey area. FRIDAY, is there any damage? The guy's okay, right?"

" _That's right boss, George is unharmed. We will have to replace his materials, and you have a new spot mark on the floor of your favorite lab on level three, but nothing else was damaged."_

I couldn't hide my large smile as I looked up to the ceiling. "That's the AI I heard about?" I asked, pretty sure my eyes were shining. "That's so cool. Hello, FRIDAY."

" _Hello, Miss Teal-Murdock. Are you enjoying the tower?"_

I leaned back against the elevator wall. "Absolutely. And call me Hebi, please. Any gossip you can tell the newbie? Pretty please?"

Steve laughed, and Tony snickered.

"Nice try kid, but FRI is—"

" _Mister Stark has been making headway into firing Miss Bakely from your school for how she treated you last week. And the Avengers are waiting to meet you, Miss Hebi_."

I turned my head to the man, blinking in slight disbelief.

"Traitor," Tony mumbled and shuffled slightly uncomfortably. I turned to Peter.

"Thank you," I breathed. "I mean, it was totally unnecessary, but thank you."

Peter blushes and started to stammer, but Tony interrupted with slight irritation.

"Um, hello? I'm the one making it happen, you know.

"Would you have even known about what happened without Pete?"

Tony couldn't answer before the elevator doors open and I winked at him. "That's what I thought."

Wait. The explosion had happened on level three, and Peter had been able to hear it? I looked over at the boy, hiding my confusion from my face as I examined him. My hearing aids were on, and I hadn't heard it. I had only felt it, but it wasn't anything noticeable so had Peter..?

I was brought out of my thoughts when I walked into what was apparently the Avenger's living room. Sure enough, where was a line of people either standing or leaning on the back of one of the two couches waiting. For me, I guessed. That was a surreal thought.

Peter came up by my side. "So this is everyone, let me introduce you. Guys, this is Hebi, Hebi, this—" he paused when he looked over and saw a certain arched standing on his hands instead of feet like a normal person. He rolled his eyes fondly, lips twitching into a smile. "Uncle Clint, you already met her. Stop showing off."

"No no, it's okay," I said with a wave of my hand. I could feel the challenging smile spreading over my face. "As one of the best street performers in the city, in my own professional opinion, I cannot just leave this uncontested," I could feel Peter's confused gaze on the side of my face as I cracked my knuckles and slid one leg backwards. I slid off my backpack before handing it to Peter, who took it with a sound of confusion.

"Hebi, What..?"

I took a running start before leaping up, careful to keep a perfectly normal height, did a front flip while in the air, and landed on my hands. There were a few gasps, and even a few appreciative claps. I remained on my hands, body perfectly straight, and "walked" over so I was only a foot or two away from Clint's own upside down body. He stared at me, raising an eyebrow. I lifted one hand off the ground, making a small show of pretending to be careful, and used it to flick the guy's nose. He scrunched it at me in response.

" _That,"_ I said before returning my hand to the ground, "Was for interrupting our family gym day."

"Nice," a soft but deep voice complimented, and I lifted my head to see who it was.

All it took was registering the glint of a metal arm for it to sink in, and I almost instantly lost my balance and fell. I landed on my back, staring up wide-eyed at Bucky fucking Buchanan Barnes.

"Oh holy shit I'm dead," I whispered, barely realizing I was talking. "I'm dead, I went to hell, and now I'm being tortured with lies."

There was an uproar of laughter, among which was Bucky's soft chuckles.

"Smooth," Peter's voice managed to say through his own laughs. I raised my head to glare at him.

"Careful, Parker-Stark. I can probably coax FRIDAY into showing me footage from your early days of knowing Tony."

" _How about their first lab day together, Miss Hebi?"_

Peter paled. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Peter held up his hands in faux surrender, but was smiling again. "Please don't do that, I'm so sorry for teasing you. Won't happen again."

I rolled my eyes with a snort, knowing _that_ was a lie, but accepted it anyway. "Damn right you're sorry," I grumbled good naturedly, finally standing up and turning to face my still-grinning hero. "Hi, I'm Hebi," I managed to introduce myself, holding out my left hand for a shake on purpose.

To my side, Clint flopped out of his handstand and grinned with his hands on his hips. "Oh he knows. Pete showed us video of your speech about why Bucky was your favorite Avenger."

I froze.

"Uh, Hebi?" That was Peter's tentative voice.

"Pete, give me one good reason not to tackle you," I said softly, turning my head to look at my friend. He gulped, smiling nervously before holding out my backpack like it was a peace offering. A cold hand gripping mine made my gaze shoot back to Bucky, who had grabbed my hand with his metal one after a brief hesitation. He smiled at me. It was a small, frail thing, but that just made it more amazing. I smiled back.

"Don't hold it against him, I needed to hear it," he told me softly. I had a feeling he spoke like that on a regular basis. I gripped his hand firmly, showing I wasn't afraid, and gave it a single shake before we let go. "It made my day, honestly."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to regain my confidence. After a second, I gave him one of my strong smiles. "Good. But it's the principle of the thing, you know? What was that reason I asked you for, Pete?"

"You still have to give them that mysterious gift you wouldn't tell me about," he said quickly, making me relax. I had forgotten!

"Oh yeah, that's a pretty good reason," I decided with a shrug, walking over and taking the bag from him.

"You brought a gift?" Tony asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Kid, you know I'm a billionaire and nobody here actually needs anything, right? You didn't have to get us a gift," he told me, but I waved him off flippantly with one hand.

"Too late for that. I wanted to, anyway," I pulled out the drawstring bag and let the rest of my backpack drop. I could see Natasha watching me closely, and Clint doing the same thing but while much more relaxed, and walked past everyone to set the bag down on the floating kitchen counter. It was like the one Matt and I had back at the apartment, so it was natural for me to gravitate there. I opened the bag, pulling out the two good sized jars and turning to present them to everyone. "It's tea. I didn't know if any of you would like it, but I figured to give it a shot anyway," I explained.

"Oh wow," a small man with messy brown hair spoke up, who I recognized as Bruce Banner from the picture of him that was up in the school. He walked forward, and I handed him one of the jars without hesitation. He turned it over, and then turned to the others with his eyebrows high on his face. "This is that new indie brand I was telling you guys about!"

"The one you bought five jars from?" The man I recognized as Sam Wilson, AKA Falcon, drawled with one eyebrow raised. "You buy from them too, Hebi?"

I blinked, caught off guard and turned my head to Bruce. "Mister Banner, you like WickedTea?" I asked, surprised. The man nodded, smiling happily.

"I like tea a lot. It helps that it's very calming. This is my favorite blend, actually," he held up the Meditation Blend that I had brought. "But it's fairly expensive since it's a new brand, you didn't have to."

I snorted, suddenly overcome with amusement. I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter. "Oh, it's not that big of a deal since I own WickedTea."

"I'm sorry, _what?"_ Tony interrupted, looking up from whatever he had been doing on his StarkPad. "You own a small business?"

"Yup," I said, popping the 'p'. "I am WickedTea's sole owner, tea designer, and only current employee. Actually, I decided just this morning to start a merch line. I'll bring you guys the first couple samples when they're done."

"Oh no," Sam groused. "She's like Stark but with tea instead of technology."

I winked and shot him finger-guns. Peter, who had caught on to my cheesier tells, groaned.

"Hebi, no," he tried, but I ignored him.

"You mean, technolo _tea,"_ I punned shamelessly, stirring up a mixed reaction of uproarious laughter (Clint) or groans of despair (pretty much everyone else).

"Anyway," Bruce said after a good eye roll, the first to go back to being genuine. "We really appreciate it. I know Bucky likes tea, too. I'll make sure to buy a shirt when you come out with them."

I gave him the most deadpan look I could. "Hell no. Your picture is up in our school, you are not _buying_ shit. I said I'd drop samples off, and I will. Non negotiable. Okay Pete, let's get to legos."

Bruce blinked and I could feel his gaze on the back of my head as I walked over to Peter and let the other teen cheerfully lead me to his room.

"Keep the door open!" Tony called after us teasingly. I was only smiling until I saw how red Peter was after that line, his face making me burst into laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

Hebi and Peter came out of the room a minute later with a box, which was then soundly opened and dumped out in between the sofa and TV. In other words; in everyone's way.

Some people had left since there just wasn't enough space in the common living room for everybody to stay for long periods of time, but there was still a good assortment. The Originals, minus Thor who was the only one Hebi didn't get to meet since he hadn't been at the tower at all, and Bucky.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows at the set that Peter and Hebi were starting on. "Don't you have five of those already, Peter? I thought you'd want to start working on that new set you got like you and Ned have been planning."

"Nah, this is Hebi's first Lego experience, so I'm starting her out simple," Peter explained as they worked on one wing of the TIE fighter model. Peter shook his head at something Hebi had done, correcting her. She made a small noise of realization, and then continued on.

"First Lego experience?" Tony asked curiously. "You weren't always a nerd like Peter?"

Peter looked up at his dad with a panicked face that had everyone sitting up and paying more attention to what was going on. Except Clint and Natasha, who were interested still but had a feeling they knew what was going on. Peter's gaze shot back down to Hebi, then up at his family again. He made cutting motions across his neck to tell them to stop asking questions.

"I'm not even completely deaf Peter, let alone blind or dumb," Hebi drawled, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. "I can see you."

Sufficiently embarrassed, Peter winced. "I can tell them to shut up for you," he offered. Hebi waved a hand, eyes still focused as she moved another brick into place.

"It's gonna come up eventually," she said. Which, logically, shouldn't have made Peter so happy to hear. But it did, because it insinuated that she planned on being his friend for a long time and coming over more often. He pushed that very out of place joy away.

"My mom drank herself to death when I was six. We were too poor for me to have very many toys anyway," Hebi said flippantly, stubbornly keeping emotion out of her voice as she spoke and worked at the same time. "I think we had legos in my kindergarten class, but I spent much more time in the hospital from various injuries than I did playing. Then my father got custody after Mom died," Hebi frowned, clicking a Lego piece into place to finish one wing. "He was an ass. I didn't see the light outside the house until he died, end of story."

The room went eerily quiet. Peter wasn't even helping Hebi with the set anymore, opting instead to watch her face and make sure she was okay. She caught on, and scoffed.

"I'm not made of glass, Peter, stop looking at me like a wounded puppy," she said, her words harsh but tone soft. "I've said it once, I'll say it again, talking about it isn't going to break me."

Unbeknownst to her, that was the moment three of the six people present decided to keep an eye out for her. Steve was concerned, but he had planned to keep an eye out regardless since the very beginning. It was just who he was. Clint and Natasha were made of sterner stuff, but even they frowned.

"Do you want a hug? Hugs usually help," Peter offered, making Hebi stiffen. "Okay, no hugs," he said after he held up his hands, noticing her distress immediately. Her shoulders slumped.

"Thanks Peter, but I'm not big on hugs. Or anything more than a handshake really."

"That's fine," Bucky was the one who said that, making Hebi turn to look at him. He gave her a lopsided smile. "We all have our quirks."

"So!" Tony interrupted, always the one to steer the discussion away from anything emotional. Peter relaxed and started helping Hebi with the legos again. "What kept you? We planned this whole thing to cheer you up after the Monday fiasco Peter told me about last week. And by 'we,' I mean me and Peter."

Hebi hummed to show that she heard him. "I have an eye condition," she said easily. "Developed it when I was eight or nine I think," Seven, she knew, directly after the whole experimenting thing. "Every now and then my eyes will get really sensitive to light, and I have to wear really thick sunglasses to prevent light damage. You know, the whole reason the teacher thing happened in the first place. I prefer to stay at home until my sight goes back to normal, but that didn't happen until yesterday."

Bruce rose an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound very familiar. I'm kind of the group's go-to doctor, would you want me to take a look? Maybe I can come up with a better result than just sunglasses.

Outwardly, Hebi seemed to tilt her head and ponder it calmly. Inwardly, she was panicking and red lights were going off in her head and the word 'escape' repeated in her head at a near deafening volume. Thankfully, she always did work well under pressure.

"No thanks, Doctor Banner," she said after a moment's pause. "I trust my doctor."

"You should probably let Bruce at it anyway," Tony piped up. "He works with enhanced individuals on a daily basis, he can probably find a way around your weird eye issue."

Hebi straight up laughed at that. "No thanks, really. Trust me when I say that if my doctor hasn't found a way around it, not even Doctor Banner will."

That got everyone's attention. Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah? If he's so great, I should know him. What's his name?" The billionaire brought his phone up, clearly ready to search the guy's name the second Hebi finished saying it. She sighed and opened her mouth, right when a portal opened up and the exact person she had been about to mention walked in. Except he wasn't in a casual suit like the one he had walked to Matt and Hebi's apartment in.

No, he was in full-out Sorcerer garb. Levitating cloak and all.

"Did you sense that I was about to talk about you?" Hebi immediately asked in the most dull voice possible. That made Strangewhip his head over to her, eyebrows high on his forehead.

"Hebi?" He asked, caught off guard. "What the hell are you doing in Avengers Tower? And no, actually—"

"Maybe because I wasn't going to," she deadpanned even though it was a blatant lie. Strange rolled his eyes and continued on.

" _Actually,"_ he said firmly. "I'm here to find Thor and tell him that I found a suitable uninhabited planet for New Asgard. Where is he?"

Hebi shrugged. "I'm just here on a visit, don't ask me."

"I think I'm missing something," Steve spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. "Strange, Thor is at the Asgardian settlement and won't be back until tomorrow."

Strange nodded. "You are missing something, actually. And that's fine, I'll just have to go out of my way and come back _tomorrow,_ then," he said with a lot of faked annoyance before turning back to Hebi. "So, since I apparently don't have something to do right now, why _are_ you here?"

Hebi shrugged. "I go to Peter's school. Peter is my friend. Shit happened last Monday after your visit, this is my apparent cheering up party."

"On a scale of one to ten, psychical or emotional?"

"Emotional, solid five and a half."

"Ah."

"Wait wait wait," Bruce held up a hand. "How do you know Hebi? And Hebi, _he's_ the doctor you mentioned?"

"So you _were_ talking about me," Strange drawled, glancing over at the girl with an eyebrow raised as she was caught in her lie. She shrugged unrepentantly.

"So you see what I meant now," she said easily. "If Stephen can't find a way to fix my light-sensitivity issue, I'm not gonna waste your time having you look over me too."

 _Stephen?_ Tony mouthed to the three assassins in confusion. For the first time that night, even Nat and Clint her caught off guard. All three assassins just shrugged, not knowing why Hebi would call the impersonal sorcerer by his first name.

"Okay, but how do you know each other? Does this have to do with your many hospital visits as a kid?" Steve wondered. Hebi snorted when she saw how lost Strange looked at that remark.

"Actually, despite the frankly appalling number of surgeries I underwent between the ages three and six, I never actually needed a _neuro_ surgeon. So, no."

"Were _you_ the girl who had a plastic nameplate that the other doctors kept on hand so they could just slide it into the slot outside your hospital room? Because I think I chuckled at your misfortune a few times."

She gave him a finger gun. "You noticed that? My mom was just glad that my name didn't always have to be scrawled out in poor doctor-handwriting every time."

"How?" Peter asked, aghast. "How are you still alive, Hebi?"

"Anyway," she deflected, not wanting to think too hard on _that_ particular question. "I met Strange almost two years ago. Accidentally wandered into the Sanctum looking for a place to sleep."

Strange snorted, not about to let her off _that_ easily despite having caught on to her hints about the Avengers not knowing she was Boa.

"You were thrown through one of the windows."

"I'm sorry, _what?"_ Bruce asked, shocked. Stephen looked over at him, looking decidedly annoyed as he recounted what had happened.

"She was thrown through one of the Sanctum's windows, and landed on and therefore _broke_ one of the cursed pots that was imprisoning a demon army," he said slowly, and Hebi slowly turned around to busy herself with Legos again. "It took me days to kill them all. And then she snuck into the Sanctum during the winter and decided it was a good idea to sleep next to _dangerous relics_ on the floor despite me and Wong offering her a guest room after the fifth surprise visit."

"I didn't _know_ they were dangerous!" The Asian defended herself. "I was cold and they radiated heat, so I slept by them."

"They radiated heat because they were _evil,_ Hebi."

"I know that _now!"_

"Can we go back to the window thing, now?" Bucky interrupted their banter, looking concerned. He was looking at Hebi as he asked, which was a good strategy on his part since he was her favorite. She looked everywhere but him, knowing her own weakness all too well. Strange scoffed.

"Good luck with that. She's never explained that to me, either," the wizard told the man. "She always comes up with an obvious lie to make me stop asking."

"I'm secretly a man and I was practicing swinging on webs. Spoiler, I like wearing tight red spandex," Hebi deadpanned, face completely straight. Peter choked on air, and Tony straight burst out laughing, closely followed by everyone but Strange, who only groaned in despair and rubbed the area between his eyebrows with two fingers as if willing away a migraine. Even Natasha chuckled.

"Actually," the tower's owner interjected, raising a finger despite the smirk still on his face. "It's not made of spandex. I make the suits Spider-Man uses, it's a complex mix of flexible metal alloys."

Hebi waved her hand at him. "Details," She dismissed flippantly. "The guy's exactly my height though, it's kind of funny. I could probably pretend to be him if I really wanted," she mused out loud. Peter was sent choking on air again, making Hebi turn to him with a raised eyebrow. He avoided her gaze, looking straight down to focus on the Lego set.

"How do you know he's exactly your height?" Bruce asked curiously, apparently in possession of a mean streak that _wasn't_ big and green as he knew he was only making Peter more uncomfortable. From behind Hebi, the teen gave Bruce the most betrayed expression he could muster. Hebi smirked, leaning back on her legs from how she was sitting on her knees.

"Did Peter tell you about how I met Spider-Man a month before school started?" All the heroes, minus Strange, nodded. "I would disappoint myself if I didn't at least memorize his height. But I didn't have hearing aids back then," she tapped the purple devices in her ears, "so, sadly, I probably wouldn't recognize his voice even if I spoke to him out of costume," that made all the older heroes have to practice their poker faces, because everyone but Hebi saw the way Peter _sunk_ in obvious relief at that statement.

Hebi noticed something was going on, but internally sighed and ignored it. She didn't need to know, she was trying to get _out_ of her Assassin habits. Step one was not chasing after every secret she caught a whiff of.

"Well then, I'll get going—" Strange said, starting to raise his sling ring. He never got the chance to open the portal though, because Hebi pounced on him, clinging to his robes like a monkey.

"Noooooo!" She whined, looking up at him with puppy eyes. "I demand you stay."

"You have literally no power over me, Hebi," the former surgeon drawled, looking down at her face without being moved. Considering how he hadn't really reacted to her tackle, everyone else in the room assumed it was something she did often.

Which, actually, it wasn't. It was the first time she had gotten that close to Strange on purpose, actually. But the sorcerer _was_ used to her unpredictable shenanigans, so he knew the best thing to do was pretend he was unbothered.

A very mischievous look came over her face. "Oh? You want to _bet,_ Strange?" She asked, her tone playfully threatening. The doctor thought about it a moment, before his gaze sharpened on her face.

"You didn't."

Her grin only widened. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You _did._ Damn it all, Hebi, I'm gonna lock you out of the Sanctum," he groused before peeling her off of him and moving to pull a stool from the kitchen to sit on. Hebi sat back down next to Peter with a very smug look on her face. Her friend looked over at her with equal parts fear and curiosity.

"What did you _do?_ Doctor Strange never agrees to stay at the Tower longer than necessary," Peter asked her in a loud whisper. He got a wink in return, the girl raising a finger to her lips.

"Uh, uh, uh. It's a secret."

"Hebiiiiii," the boy moaned in despair, flopping on the ground dramatically in front of her. "I wanna knowwwwwww!" He whined, looking up at her with his own much more effective puppy dog eyes. Hebi just grinned in amusement.

"Sorry, you're gonna have to try harder than that," she teased before reaching over and clicking the last few pieces of the TIE fighter into place. "Look, we're done."

Distracted, Peter rose his head from his dramatic slumped position to see that the small Lego set was, in fact, complete. "Cool," he said. "Now that you've been officially initiated in the ways of the Lego, wanna watch a movie?"

Hebi shrugged, moving over on the floor before laying down so that she was stretched out next to Peter, their heads pointing towards each other's. Hebi propped her body up on one arm.

"Sure. I haven't had a chance to watch very many Disney movies that came out after I was six. We don't exactly watch very many movies at home. Spoiler alert: having audio description and subtitles on at the same time is really weird."

"You shouldn't have said that," Steve warned the girl, amused. "Now you've just signed your life away to a marathon."

He and Bucky knew that from experience.

"Bring it on."

Turns out, they only got a few minutes into Frozen. Which had been a poor choice on everyone's part, but Hebi was so good at acting normal and hiding her emotions that nobody had quite remembered in time about her trauma.

They made it completely through Elsa's isolation scenes before anyone noticed anything was wrong. Turns out, Strange was the first to pick up on it.

Hebi wasn't much of a fidgeter, unlike Peter, but there was almost always subtle movement with her. An almost unnoticeable swaying side to side, or the occasional twitch of a finger, even just her steady breathing gave her body slight movement.

But she was completely still, eyes fixed on the screen, chest not even moving in the slightest. Every muscle was tensed, and Strange was the first to pick up that she hadn't blinked in five solid minutes.

"Perhaps we should change the movie," he said casually, making everyone look over to him. Seeing he wasn't meeting their eyes, they followed his gaze to the, ironically, frozen teen on the floor.

"Hebi, you need to breath," Tony's voice was surprisingly soft after Steve managed to pause the television. The girl startled, sucking in a surprised breath and blinking a few times as she came out of whatever area of her mind she had been so deeply in. As far as panic attacks went, it had been fairly mild. But still, a panic attack was a panic attack. "Do you want to do something else? Maybe we should watch Moana or something instead," the engineer suggested. There was no abuse or neglect in Moana, and the only character death was natural. It was relatively safe for the girl.

But she shook her head, fire seeming to enter her eyes. "Hell no. A children's movie isn't enough to break me. Take it off pause."

Clint and Natasha shared a glance, coming to a silent agreement. 'Can't break me,' was just a line Hebi said to reassure herself, it wasn't actually what she thought. Tony caught onto it too, frowning in Hebi's direction for a moment. When everything was said and done, it was painfully easy for the billionaire to recognize the same mantra he had repeated to himself on countless occasions and for almost the same reason. 'Can't break me,' was more like a weak 'I won't _let_ it break me.'

But as Tony met Hebi's gaze evenly, he realized that Hebi meant it more firmly that he ever had. She wasn't just telling herself that line as a desperate measure to stay attached to reality, she _meant it._ She'd fight tooth and nail to not let it break her, and even if it did she'd make sure to pick up all the pieces.

Now all that remained to be seen was if she had a stronger will than Iron Man. Sincerely hoping she did, Tony gave her a small nod and told FRIDAY to resume the movie.

And, to everyone's mild surprise and major relief, she ended the movie more relaxed than she had begun it.

—*—*—*—*—*

After the movie, it was still only around six. Dinner arrived, and everyone took their seats around three large dinner table—including the Avengers who had previously left. Wanda, Vision, Sam, and a new guy—

" _Scott? Hope?"_ Hebi asked, shocked at the familiar form. The electrician and his girlfriend looked up at her in surprise, eyebrows raising.

Conversation stopped.

"You know them, too?" Steve asked, eyebrows furrowed. "How many heroes do you know?"

"The more accurate question is how many _important_ people I know, and you'll have to start a list if you want to figure it out," she said distractedly. Scott opened his mouth, and Hebi met Hope's gaze just in time. She gave the woman a barely noticeable shake of the head, and realization filled the female scientist's eyes. She interrupted her boyfriend just in time, making her way to a seat at the table.

"So, Hebi. What brings you to Avengers Tower?"

Hebi silently thanked any being that was listening for Hope Van Dyne. Scott had almost certainly been about to blow the secret. She gave them the same story she had said to Strange earlier (who had left after Frozen before Hebi could convince him to stay even a minute longer), and thankfully Scott caught on after that.

The man was seriously not good at keeping secrets though, and Hebi had to change the topic almost immediately to keep anyone from getting suspicious about his behavior. Stupid jerk kept making snake jokes throughout dinner though, and Hebi mentally plotted her revenge.

About two hours after dinner, after Hope and Scott left again and in the middle of another Disney movie, Clint and Hebi somehow got into an acrobatics contest that had to be moved down to the gym. Considering Clint had been part of a circus, his teammates all knew what to expect. But all Hebi had told any of them was that she had performed on the streets for money during her homeless years. It took them all of five minutes to realize that part of her street performing had been _contortion._

Peter watched, bouncing on his feet, as the two did various tricks to try and one-up each other. Peter was tempted to join them, since he was capable of some pretty awesome feats since the spider bite, but he knew he couldn't or else Hebi would figure out his secret before he could even finish landing his first backflip.

He knew how scarily observant she was, and he knew that the only reason she _hadn't_ figured it out yet was that she _decided_ to ignore clues. He had seen her earlier, during their brief Spider-Man discussion. He had seen the way confusion and curiosity had entered her eyes only to be forcefully pushed away in favor of disinterest.

Maybe he should get lying lessons from Aunt Nat in addition to the combat lessons, just in case.

(He asked the next day, and she just scoffed and said that not even _she_ could improve his overly honest demeanor.)

(In truth, she just didn't _want_ to.)

Hawkeye was standing on one hand, holding his bow with his other and pulling back the string with his foot. The arrow notched on the weapon fired true, hitting the center of the target set up for him.

"Beat that, squirt," he challenged with a smirk. Hebi rolled her eyes, making a show of stretching her arms and yawning. She tilted her head. "You guys got bo staffs?"

Intrigued, Sam confirmed for her that they did, and tossed one to her. She caught it easily, placing one end firmly on the ground. She winked at them.

"Watch me make Birdbrain look like an amateur," she said boldly, both hands wrapped around the staff towards the top. She took a breath, and _hopped._ The heroes watched as Hebi slowly raised up, face focused as she balanced on the staff. Slowly, she straightened out until her body was completely horizontal, balanced in the air only by her hands gripped around the staff. She made it wobble slightly just to make it look like she was struggling, or else her inhuman balance would have been at risk of being exposed. She stopped once she was perfectly horizontal to the ground, and slowly peeled one hand away from the staff to hold it out to the side of her body.

Nobody made a sound.

After allowing them a moment to soak it in, she replaced her hand and continued forcing herself up until she was balanced completely vertical over the wooden pole. This time she slowly detached her other hand from the prop, raising it dramatically like she had done before.

Finally, after replacing her hands one finally time, she pressed her body low against the staff and _pushed,_ sending herself and the weapon into the air. With a perfect blackflip, she landed soundly and beamed at them before bowing.

"Damn. We don't have trapezes, or I'd challenge you to that," Clint said, sore about being upstaged. He crossed his arms. Hebi stuck her tongue out.

"That's a good thing, trust me, or else I'd beat you there too despite never doing Trapeze before. I'm just that amazing," she sighed as if that was a burden, placing one hand over her heart dramatically. Peter laughed.

"That was awesome!" He complimented her, interrupting the silence from the peanut gallery and waking them up enough to clap. Except Natasha, who was as unmoved as always. Hebi, embarrassed, started swinging the bo staff in a familiar pattern with one hand to keep herself from blushing.

"Yeah, well. Had to make a living on the streets somehow," she dismissed casually. "And I suck at singing, so this was the next best thing."

Peter decided he'd work on improving her self esteem and get her to actually accept a compliment before the school year was over. _Without_ sarcasm or dramatics involved.

—*—*—*—*—*

Ten thirty rolled around, and Hebi knew she had to head back before she risked being late. She sighed, setting down the cards for the game of poker they had decided to play with candy as chips. She and Nat had been dominating the game shamelessly. She sighed, actually sorry to go. "It's about time for me to head back," she admitted.

"Good, give me your candy," Tony said immediately, looking down at his pitifully small pile. Only Peter had less, considering he had lost already.

Hebi snorted. "Yeah right old man, I'm cashing out," she retorted happily, scooping the sweets into her backpack. "I don't live that far away, so I can walk," she said as she zipped up her bag.

"This late at night?" Bucky asked dubiously, concerned. Bruce, who had elected to just watch the card game instead of play, had an identical expression on his face. Hebi rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine guys. I can take care of myself, did it for years," yeah those words didn't make anyone feel better. Only Nat and Clint looked unconcerned. After all, they knew that Hebi was more dangerous than almost any thug she'd run into on a short walk home. Like a monster in human skin getting attacked by a wild animal— the animal might pose a threat to a normal human, but a monster would come on top. Almost always.

"Yeah, not happening," Tony interjected, frowning. "I have plenty of cars, you're not waking when someone can drive you. Where do you live?"

Hebi gave him an unamused stare. "I'm fine. Cars release harmful emissions, I rather be on the side of planet earth."

"Pete and I just finished a car that runs on Arc tech."

Shit. That was clean energy, no exhaust. Hebi wrinkled her nose, knowing she was beat.

"Fine," She grumbled unhappily. She rattled off her address, making Tony raise an eyebrow after he plugged it in to his GPS.

"That's in Hell's Kitchen," he said, sounding surprised. He looked over her with eyebrows furrowed. She didn't meet his gaze.

"You were gonna walk home after ten to _Hell's Kitchen?"_ Peter asked, aghast. "That's ridiculously dangerous, Hebi!"

The teen huffed, getting up and swinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Whatever. Hell's Kitchen has Daredevil, if worse comes to shove, he'll probably show up. Or that Boa guy."

"Girl," Peter corrected without thinking, making Hebi swing her head over to him immediately. Most people still thought Boa was a man, which was why Hebi had phrased it the way she had. Peter flinched at his slip, running the back of his neck. Clint closed his eyes, internally sighing at the kid's inability to keep a secret.

"What?" Hebi asked, looking caught off guard. "How do you know Boa's a girl?"

"Oh, um, Spider-Man is a friend of mine," Peter blurted out, squirming. "He's kinda like a part-time Avenger, so he swings in a lot you know? And I help Dad work on his suits and stuff. He told me about how he met Boa, and said that she was a girl."

Hebi frowned, studying Peter's face for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. "Whatever," she said again, having to force herself not to treat her friend like a puzzle to be put together. "This was a really good day, Pete," she said more gently, shifting on her feet with embarrassment as she forced herself to be genuine for a change. Peter's shoulders dropped in surprise, his eyes widening comically. "So, thanks," the girl then turned on her heel and walked to the elevator. "Hurry up, Stark. If the elevator closes before you get in, I'm walking."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Kid, I control when the doors shut," he reminded her before shooting an annoyed glance at his teammates. "Look at that, she's just assuming I'm gonna drive her personally."

"I'll come with you!" Peter volunteered, jogging to catch up to Hebi.

"You know you wouldn't trust anyone else to drive the Reactor run car," Nat quipped. "Hurry up and drive your future daughter-in-Law home, old man."

—*—*—*—*—*

I flopped onto the couch, which was my bed. Matt was slipping his cowl on, having waited for me to get back before dressing for patrol. "Have a good day?"

"So many close calls, but it was fucking great," I admitted. "I met Bucky fucking Barnes."

Matt grinned for a moment before frowning. "You're just as strong as him, you know. Maybe more so."

We both knew he didn't mean physical strength.

"...Agree to disagree," I said softly before closing my eyes. I was too tired for patrol, I'd join him the next night. Matt sighed, but knew he wasn't going to win that argument that night.

"I'll be back by three. Goodnight, Hebi." _Call me if you have a nightmare_ went unsaid, but she understood.

"Don't be an idiot." _Stay alive._

It was funny how well they understood each other's complex languages already.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot happens.

I twisted, landing a solid kick with my shin straight to a robber's abdomen. Trying to rob an apartment in Hell's Kitchen? Not the best use of their time, I thought to myself. There were two more guys in the building with me. I quickly shot forward, grabbing the head of the guy I had just kicked as he gagged and slammed his head into my knee.

I didn't watch as he slumped onto the ground unconscious before turning and catching the fist of one of the other guys, bending backwards at the same time to avoid a flying—

"Why would you throw the TV?" I asked, raising an eyebrow under my mask. "Isn't that kinda the reason you're here? Wasteful," I shook my head in disappointment, throwing the guy whose hand I had caught into the opposite wall and dropping backwards into the ground, kicking the ankles out from under TV-guy, who had somehow gotten a gun and aimed it at me. Maybe he had it the whole time, everything smelled like gunpowder at that point. "You have a gun but lead with the TV? Go back to criminal kindergarten," I quipped, lunging forward and slamming my hand on top of his before he could pull the trigger. Fingers now broken, I took the weapon from the guy now screaming in pain and crushed it into useless scrap metal with one hand.

"Dirty mutant," he growled with pain lacing his voice when he saw that feat of strength. I rolled my eyes despite him being unable to see it, and punched him right between the eyes.

"No, I took a shower and I know for a fact I don't stink," I retorted even though the guy was now passed out, rolling out of the way of the guy I had thrown, who was trying to keep his distance and beat me up at the same time by using a broken chair leg like a sword. Unimpressed, I dodged each sloppy swing easily. "You, on the other hand, need about ten showers," I told the grimy man, grabbing the chair leg out of the air on the next failed strike and jamming it straight into it throat. As he choked, I swung it into the side of his face and dropped the failure of a weapon.

"One, two, three, four," I counted the downed robbers on the ground. "Five. All accounted for, awesome," I then proceeded to drag each passed out body over to the fire escape, where I sat them side by side and tied them there with the cords they had been using to tie all their stolen stuff down in the back of their stereotypical big white van. Once that was done, I hopped over the railing and jogged several blocks until I reached more fighting and the scent of Matt's blood.

Wait.

Shit.

I opened my mouth a little wider, fighting down panic. My shoulders relaxed after a second; it wasn't anywhere near enough to be life threatening. But still, that was more than he usually lost. Had he been stabbed again?

Deciding a strategic position would be best if the guy was good enough to rough up Matt like that, I climbed up a building and approached by rooftop.

Looking down, What I saw nearly sent me into a panic attack.

Familiar dyed navy-blue hair, boy cut in the back like mine but without any bangs. I forced myself not to gasp, instead clenching my jaw as the figure fought against my adoptive father. It looked like a stalemate, with the way they evenly traded blows, but I knew otherwise. Matt was winning, he wasn't even going full out.

But that wasn't a good thing, because it either meant he was underestimating her or she had shown off her ability and he was being cautious.

But the moment she showed her ability, if she had, was the moment he should have finished the fight.

The woman reached to a wall with one bare hand as she punched at him at the same time, and I took that as my que. I jumped down, smoothly shooting across the alley from the roof I had been on to land in front of her, kicking her hand that was aimed at the wall away. Matt dodged her other fist.

"Little Snake," she cooed overly sweetly even though her wrist was at least sprained because of my kick. Or at least, it should have been, but she was wearing a bracelet. It looked as if it was only made of cords like a friendship bracelet, but I knew from experience never to take things at face value with her.

"Boa?" Matt hissed softly, standing at the ready but staying still and letting me take the lead. "You know her?"

"Oh please, Daredevil," the woman scoffed. "I helped _train_ Little Snake."

Matt tensed slightly, and I took a slow breath.

"Do you not have a knife on you? Or a gun? You're not following the rules, Hebi," the woman tutted even as I lunged in, using a mixture of my own techniques and Matt's— I got in a few glancing blows, but most of them missed as she easily dodged and twisted around the alleyway. Matt had almost instantly joined me, but we were both blind for a minute as we fought without thinking.

She was able to brush the wall with her fingertips.

I saw it just as I swept my leg at her ankles, which she jumped over easily, and knew I wouldn't make it in time. Eyes wide behind my yellow lenses, I shot my head over to Matt and pushed him away by the chest. Not expecting me to touch him, he stumbled back just enough.

The brick of the wall suddenly acted like dough, stretching out from the wall and flying across the narrow alley to create a new dead end. As a result of using material of the wall, it was now open and the couple living inside screamed and fled at the sudden hole in their apartment and the two Powered strangers on the other side.

I was separated from Matt, but perhaps that was a good thing.

"I always tell you," she cooed. "Never walk around without a weapon," a large turkey feather appeared in her hand and I lunged forward, aiming for her wrist. She just barely twisted away in time, lashing at me with what should have been a soft craft item.

It sliced my cheek open as easily as if my skin were butter. Narrowing my eyes, I jumped in the air and twisted, sending one foot at her neck and the other at her wrist. Knowing my basic abilities, she decided to save her more vulnerable throat and hurtle out of my trajectory. Keeping the smirk off my face, I slammed my upper body down in the air and wrapped my hand around her wrist. She had dodged my feet, but had walked right into my arm's strike range instead.

I wasted no time squeezing, breaking her wrist and causing the bracelet around it to warp. As I had thought, it crinkled like metal instead of cord.

Unlike the Absorbing Man that Spider-Man was occasionally seen taking down, this was the opposite. This woman was a mercenary of a special degree, whimsical and unbound. Did anything and everything she wanted, took almost any job.

Because unlike the Absorbing Man, she _gave_ things _other properties._ She couldn't change their chemical properties, which was something I had found out years earlier to my immense relief, but she could warp the physical attributes of any non-living thing she touched. Like how she had turned the wall into a sheet of clay and sent it flying and sticking to the opposite side of the alley to make a new dead end.

Like she had done to the feather, which had the edge of a razor.

And to her bracelet, which she had made as stiff and strong as steel.

She groaned at the pain of broken bones, but landed a hard knee in my gut. Huffing in pain, I let go and slid back a couple feet before going right back at it.

We traded blows evenly, my fist to her arm, her fist to my shoulder. Every hit bruised, no matter who gave or got it. I ignored the blood trickling down my face, getting in as close as I could before springing up and twisting around her.

But one of her arms escaped my coiled body, slamming into my face. Like trying to get a shark to release it's jaw, she pounded away at my eye and nose no matter how I repositioned my face. With her head, her elbow, her fist, she attacked my head.

Finally I ended up relaxing my coil without realizing it, just enough for her to slip away and drag her fingers across the ground around my feet.

Matt found me by coming in through another entrance, with blood pouring down my chin, one eye swelling up, and me trying to lift my feet out of a ground the texture of quicksand.

He had to pull me out, and took me straight to Claire's.

"I should have killed her, I'm sorry," I whispered, glaring down at my legs with my one good eye as Claire dabbed my face with antiseptic wipes. "I had her in my coil, and I was trying to just choke her until she passed out like I usually do. But she's trained to resist until she can't anymore," I breathed heavily through my bruised nose. "Not killing is hard."

"I'm proud of you," Matt argued, sitting at the other side of the sofa with my legs over his lap. He patted my knee. "You _were_ perfectly capable of killing her, and she was one of the assholes that helped make your childhood a living hell. If I had been in the same situation, I'm not sure I would have been able to rein in my anger well enough to avoid putting her in a coma," his hand squeezed my knee gently. "Never apologize for not killing someone, ever again," he whispered firmly, eyebrows furrowed and his face no longer gentle as he tried to glare his words into me sightlessly. "Never, you understand? You want to move _away_ from your past, not killing is a good thing."

"But she got away, and now more people might get killed because of her," I protested, feeling beaten. I hadn't done so badly in a fight like that since I had escaped Dryad, and it was dragging at my confidence.

"We'll catch her," he assured firmly. "You're alive and you didn't regress by killing. That's a good outcome," he tilted his head with a rueful smile. "I'd prefer if we had won, of course, but I hadn't been prepared for her abilities and that's just how it goes sometimes. It's not your fault."

I grunted, knowing despite his words that he was just as frustrated and angry about her escape as I was. After leaving me with the apartment robbers, Matt had run into her after she had completed an assassination and that was why they had been fighting. We had let that guy's murderer slip through our fingers, and it was dragging at both of us.

"Yeah. We'll catch her," I agreed softly, before going quiet and focusing on the feeling of Claire patching me up.

—*—*—*—*—*

"Okay, what the hell happened to you?" Peter asked the next day at school, eyes worried as he looked over me. Since I had visited his house the month before, we had grown a bit closer as friends. I hadn't gone over since then, but with my shed cycle having passed the week before I wondered if I should ask to visit again. I needed some craziness to cheer me up after the disaster the previous night.

"Jerks tried to mug me," I lied. "Three of them. These," I pointed to my injuries, "Were lucky shots. But they managed to get away, and I'm pissed off now," I grunted, my mood still very poor. Ned shook his head, looking over my injuries with worried eyes.

"Man, that sucks. But I guess it's the risk of living in Hell's Kitchen. Daredevil didn't come?"

I huffed. "There was a house robbery going on a couple blocks away, he and Boa were getting those guys when I was mugged, but they found me not long after the guys ran off. Walked me home," I told them smoothly. I rubbed my forehead, carefully avoiding my black eye. "Not even heroes can get everything or save everyone. That's why I fight, so I can save _myself._ "

"I can respect that," MJ said with an appreciative nod. "That training probably saved your life last night. But next time you get hurt, call us," the girl ordered firmly. "I don't know about these other two losers, but I don't like getting surprised in the morning with one of my friends looking beat up."

Peter nodded, eyes strangely serious as he met my gaze strongly. "Besides, we can help. Next time, someone can pick you up and Bruce can look over you. In fact," he picked my phone up off of the table, ignoring my protests as I leaped forward to try and grab it back. He skipped out of my range, flipping through the contacts before choosing the right one and hitting call.

"Hey, Mister Murdock. No, Hebi is fine, besides her black eye. She didn't tell you?" He glared at me, and I rose my hands in surrender. "She said she was mugged, Daredevil and Boa arrived just a little too late and walked her home. Yeah, I'll scold her for you. Can I take her to the Tower after school? Bruce is good at treating injuries, I want him to look her over. Yeah? Awesome! Thank you so much, Mister Murdock!"

I glared at my scrawny friend scathingly as he cheerfully handed me my phone back. I snatched it away, shoving it into my pocket and shoving a bite of food into my mouth. I had fielded all of their questions until lunch, but they had cornered me once we got to the table and I had been forced to give them _something._

Guess I was visiting the Tower, after all.

"So," Peter said as he plopped back down. "Your dad told me to tell you that you shouldn't keep important information from him like a black eye, that you should be more careful at night, and that he's gonna have a talk with you about trusting strangers even if they're vigilantes," Peter tilted his head at that last one. "Though, I don't think there's a problem with the vigilante part, but maybe he knows something I don't," he shrugged.

I sighed, and smiled lopsidedly at him. Claire had taken care of initial treatment, but it wasn't like getting looked over by Bruce for normal injuries was going to rat me out or anything.

The bell rang, and I packed my mostly empty lunch box away, getting up with my friends.

"Thanks, Pete. I'm honestly fine," I held up a hand to keep him from protesting. "But I will let Bruce look me over anyway, since you're so worried. But you come to school with bruises and scrapes all the time, so what's the difference?"

"His is from training with his family and yours is from people trying to kill you?" MJ asked, raising an eyebrow. I blinked, and then nodded.

"Yeah, okay that's a good point," I conceded. Pete has been a bit twitchy at my question, but had calmed down almost as soon as MJ had answered for him.

 _Not a puzzle. Not a puzzle. Not a puzzle,_ I repeated to myself stubbornly. If Peter didn't want to tell me what was up, I'd respect that.

"Oh, ouch!" Flash's very unsympathetic voice said in mock worry as the guy walked in front of us, turning around and walking backwards so he could look at us as he spoke. "What happened, Teal? I thought you were some badass martial artist," he made a few fake punches in the air to mock me. I was decidedly unimpressed.

"And I thought this school only let in geniuses, but your ever constant presence proves me wrong," I droned right back, making the boy stiffen and sneer. "There's always someone stronger than you, Flash, no matter how long you train in something. Remember that before you get hurt," I advised him, and he scoffed. He didn't have his next class with us, so he tried to push past me to head in the opposite direction.

Fueled with sudden pettiness, I twitched by foot just slightly to the side, which made his trip. He didn't fall, but he stumbled and had to pinwheel his arms to keep his balance. MJ and Ned chuckled, but Peter sent a very disappointed look at the side of my face as we walked into our classroom.

"That wasn't right, Hebi," he scolded gently. "You're better than that."

I looked over at him, and into his warm brown eyes. If only he knew. Something cold settled in my gut as I thought about what would happen if he _did_ know. Peter was innocent, pure. A fucking genius and righteous and funny and mentally strong, but innocent and with morals that were stronger than most people's willpower. There was no way he'd willingly stay friends with an assassin, a _murderer_ , like me. Not if he knew how much blood was on my hands.

"... Maybe I'm not," I muttered back, forcing my eyes to be blank in case any emotion had seeped into them. I sat down, but didn't reply to any of Peter's questions about what I meant.

A few hours later, and everything was back to normal. Peter had eventually changed the topic and we pretended our little awkward moment hadn't ever happened. Apparently Peter had texted somebody when I wasn't paying attention, because Colonel Rhodes was waiting leaned against a sleek black car while scrolling through his phone, and he looked up with a smile when he saw both me and Peter walk over.

"Hello. I was told you were coming over today to have Bruce look at something, and now I know what," he remarked, looking over the scabbed cut on my cheek and my puffy black eye. "You know, if you need help with self defense I'm sure Nat or Clint would be okay with training you. Hell, even Steve or Bucky— or really anyone."

He stepped into the passenger's seat, his braces whirring slightly. Yet another strong ass human being, pushing through tragedy to keep being a badass. That was why I loved the Avengers, they were strong in a way I couldn't be.

I smiled, getting in the back with Peter. Sure enough, Happy was in the Driver's seat and started driving us away almost immediately.

I thought about Rhodey's question, and mentally scoffed. Even if I _had_ needed help, Natasha wouldn't provide it. Sure, she had chuckled at me a couple times when I had visited the Tower last, but she had never once let her guard down and had barely said a sentence to me the whole time.

Yeah, she still didn't trust me for fucking sure. Maybe she didn't like me, either, I couldn't tell.

Considering that Rhodey hadn't had the chance to talk to me last time since he had had to leave the Tower before dinner the last time I visited, I took the chance for what it was and decided to start a conversation with the approachable man.

"No thanks, it wasn't for lack of skill trust me. I was outnumbered and caught off guard, that's all. But I managed to rough them up bad enough for them to run off, and I kept all my money, so I consider it a win," I told him, sticking with my three-men-failed-mugging-me story.

Rhodey made a brief humming sound in thought. "Still, you got lucky," he said, turning to face me. "What'd they have, knives by the look of you? What if they—"

"No," I interrupted, waving a hand. "Only two of the guys had knives. The last one had a gun but I disarmed him first," I corrected the man with another easy lie. His eyes went wide, and he stared at me.

Mentally I knew it sounded maybe slightly _too_ impressive, despite the situation I described being easy as fuck by then for me to deal with (Matt's crowd control training was no joke). But I wanted to make it clear that I could handle myself, I didn't need World's Mightiest Heroes coddling me or thinking that I was someone who needed protection.

"You didn't think the gun was important to mention?!" Peter asked, eyes wide and worried. "Things could have gone so badly, Hebi!"

"Pete," I said softly. "Stop worrying. I'm fine—"

"But you might not have been!"

"Peter, I don't," I furrowed my eyebrows, not sure why he was acting so panicked. "I don't understand, I just told you I took care of it. The gun was taken care of, I just got a couple superifical wounds, I'm fine."

"But you could have died!" He insisted hotly. "You made it sound like it had just been three thugs and one maybe got a lucky hit with a knife or piece of sharp glass or something, not three _armed_ guys. You could have been pinned and robbed and shot, you could have been bleeding out in some dingy alley and I would have found you and held you—"

Oh.

_Oh._

_Shit_.

"Oh my god," I whispered, eyes wide as I stared at him. Knowing he was a tactile person, I gently laid a hand in his shoulder. He relaxed into my touch. "Hey. I'm okay. Look at me," I ordered firmly, making him meet my eyes. "I'm fine. Look, I've got a few bruises on my shoulder and torso, I have a black eye, and one slice on my cheek," I catalogued for him calmly. "I'm alive, look," I took his hand and pressed it against my wrist. He relaxed further at the feel of my heartbeat. His breathing slowed, and he calmed down.

He let out a deep sigh, and slumped backwards into the car seat. He looked over at me, his eyes suddenly tired.

"Thanks," he said softly. I just smiled and nodded.

"Wow," Happy said from the front seat, eyebrows high. "How'd you know what to do?"

I grimaced, sitting back like Peter. "My dad has episodes like that sometimes, too," I admitted, looking out the window. "When he was nine, his dad was murdered. He was the one that heard the gunshot and found the body," I confided in them. "He was already blind by then, but it doesn't help, you know? Instead of seeing memories of blood, he _feels_ it and it's hard to get him to calm down. But the heartbeat trick works pretty well," I took a sharp breath, and spun to glare at everyone. "But if any of you tell him I told you about that, I'm denying it and accusing you of snooping."

Rhodey held up a hand in surrender, but was smiling softly. "We won't tattle, right boys?" Both other men shook their heads obediently. "I'm glad Pete has a friend like you, Hebi. Ned and Michelle are nice and all, but they don't know how to see the little things like that. How to deal with the panic attacks," he glanced over to Peter before meeting my eyes again. "It's good to know you can help him like that."

We got to the Tower, but Peter tapped my shoulder and stopped me before we got in the elevator. He pulled me aside, looking sheepish.

"Hey," he started softly, looking up into my eyes. I saw his vulnerability there, and knew instantly that whatever he said couldn't be met with a joke or anything. He needed me to be sincere for a moment, so I decided to do my best. "Thanks. Not just for calming me down but for, for not asking. About who, you know…" he trailed off, but I got the gist.

I patted his shoulder easily, smiling. "No worries about it, nerd," I said cheerfully, though I made sure I kept my face open so he could see I was being genuine. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'll listen. But I'll never push."

Peter gave me a thankful smile. I turned, thinking that was it, but he grabbed my wrist gently. I blinked, spinning around in shock at the sudden contact. Seeing my reaction, he instantly pulled his hand away and held both palms up to show he wasn't going to hurt me and didn't mean any harm. I let out a sigh, rubbing my forehead and calming down.

"Sorry," he said instantly, frowning. "But I wanted to also thank you for going out of your comfort zone there to help me out. I know you don't like being touched, but you still…"

Oh right, I had let him feel my pulse point and had squeezed his shoulder. It was just little things, minor contact, but I guess he appreciated it more than I thought. I shook my head, smirking.

"Don't mention it, I have a badass reputation to keep up."

Peter chuckled at that, and we finally went into the elevator were Rhodey had been patiently waiting for us while scrolling through his phone.

" _Hello again, Miss Hebi. Doctor Banner is waiting for you in the med bay, would you like to go up to him?"_

I glanced briefly at the two men in the elevator with me, and after receiving nods I looked up and nodded myself. "What would be great, thanks FRIDAY."

" _Sure thing."_

We had just received a group project in Chemistry, which I had been paired up with Peter for, so the ride wasn't silent as we talked about ideas. I had expected him to pair up with Ned, but MJ had claimed Ned as her partner, and the other boy had went along with it easily so Peter and I had ended up partners instead.

Yeah, Pete and I both knew that our friends were trying to push us together. They weren't even trying to be subtle about it, and they never apologized when it was brought up.

Still, neither of us really cared since we were pretty equally advanced in chemistry and already had plans in the works to blow the rest of the class out of the water.

"Do you think we can take advantage of cell regeneration?" I asked, tilting my head even as we walked into the med bay. It was still fairly early in the year, so the project was a simple task of showing a chemical reaction, but making the display unique or giving the reaction a creative spin. "If we create an artificial heart or something, we can show the reaction of different venoms or poisons on blood. But I want an artificial organic skin around the blood, I don't just want an old fashioned test tube visual," I stuck out my tongue. He nodded with a grimace.

"Yeah that would be boring. I like the venom idea though, think we can coax samples of skin into regenerating and staying alive in time?" Between the two of us, there was no question of _being able_ to do it or not, just how long it would take. Since what we were doing was brand fucking new, it could take years in theory.

I shrugged, sitting on the cot that was set out for me as Doctor Banner walked over and effectively cut our discussion short. The kind man looked over my wounds professionally, turning my head this way and that to get the best angle for observing the swelling and scabbing of my two injuries.

He let loose a low whistle after a minute, leaning back. "That's a nice shiner," he said with a frown, worry swimming in his eyes. "Peter didn't tell Tony anything other than the fact that you were hurt and he was forcing you to come over and get looked at, so…"

I huffed a breathy laugh, getting the hint and beginning to tell the now-familiar story about the nonexistent three criminals and their fake attempt to mug me.

"You're lucky that you weren't hurt worse. Do you want pain meds? There really isn't anything else I can do, everything is healing up nicely. The cut isn't deep so it shouldn't scar, and should be gone in a week or two. The black eye will deal with itself too, so you'll just have to deal with a few days of pain as the swelling goes down. You don't have a concussion, so that's good. You already disinfected the cut, right?," the scientist smiled down at me after I nodded in confirmation to his last question. "All in all, these are the most minor injuries I've dealt with this year. Thank you for not being a troublesome idiot like the heroes that live here."

I laughed at that. "Glad to not cause you extra stress," I joked. "I don't need to take any medicine home, but can I get a Tylenol for now? Or whatever low dose of pain pills you have," I asked. "My metabolism isn't very fast, so I only need a very small dose."

If I had turned my metabolism down to eighty percent of its normal speed so that I didn't have to use very much medication for my symptoms, nobody needed to know.

Bruce's eyebrows rose, and he smiled again. "Really?" He turned and shuffled through some bottles. "You have no idea how relieving that is. I already have to deal with too many idiots that need custom medications because of their enhanced metabolisms, so you are a wonderful change of pace," he said happily before plopping a single red pill into my palm. He double checked the bottle's dosage just in case, nodded to himself, and handed me a bottle of water. "There you go."

"See?" I said smugly to Peter, who had been waiting in a chair slightly off to the side. "Told you I was fine."

The other teen rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Yeah, yeah," he dismissed. "But I worry about my friends, so I'm not apologizing," he said firmly, and stood up after I downed my pill with a swig of water.

"Thank you, Doctor Banner," I said honestly, and he waved me off.

"Just be careful from now on, and try not to walk through Hell's Kitchen after dark. I don't need an extra person to constantly worry about," he said kindly. "I'll be in my lab now if you need me again."

I nodded, and turned to Peter as Bruce walked out of the room.

"Wellllll," he drawled, rocking back on his heels. "You're already here, so do you want to get a head start on our project?"

I snorted at him, and nodded. "Sure, why not? We have a lot of planning ahead of us if we want to make everyone else feel like a dunce!" I joked. Peter burst into laughter, pinning me with a jokingly disappointed look.

"Hebi that's totally not the plan," he said, trying very hard to keep his voice level. "Just an unfortunate side effect of us working together."

It was my turn to laugh.

"Come on," he said next as he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder. I picked my own up from the ground, slinging it onto my back as he spoke "We can start hashing everything out in my room. How will we get ahold of venom samples? We're gonna need permission to bring some to the school for presentation too, but I think Dad can handle that," he said, thinking out loud. I nodded, walking by his side as we made our way into the elevator again.

"We can start with something mild like bee venom or something," I suggested. "If we want a really dramatic reaction though, I have some connections at the Veterinary college," who had been all too happy to send samples of snake blood to me after hearing I was from Midtown. "I can probably get samples of snake or spider venom from them or something. What do you think, rattlesnakes are native to New York, right?" Peter smiled widely, nodding enthusiastically.

"Yeah!" He agreed. "And we should totally test Black Widow venom too, just to reference Aunt Nat," he suggested.

"What about me?" The red headed assassin asked we walked into the common room, where she was sitting at a stool at the kitchen counter drinking something from a mug. My lips twitched; it was a cup of my tea, the Danger and Spice blend that I had given them the previous month along with the Meditation flavor. I met her gaze, and I knew my eyes were filled with amusement. Since she probably knew I could identify what she was drinking, she narrowed her eyes and took a long, defiant sip from the mug without looking away.

Maybe she _did_ like me.

"Oh! We were thinking of testing the effects of venom on blood for a school project," Peter explained. "I was just telling Hebi that we should test Black Widow venom as a reference to you."

"Oh? You don't have to do that, but if you do make sure the project is awesome," she told him with a grin. Peter laughed, and turned to me.

"I'm gonna put my stuff away real quick, okay? I'll be right back!" He ran off to his room, and movement from Natasha caught my gaze. She lifted her hands up.

"Sticking with what you know, huh?" She signed. I frowned, knowing she was probably doing it to avoid any chance of Peter overhearing us.

Still, I guess I was wrong. She still didn't like me.

"Trying to fix what I was taught," I responded in sign stubbornly, not backing down. "If our project works, it can help scientists test and improve antivenin and poison antidotes."

The other woman blinked at that, and took a sip of her tea. Maybe I had caught her off guard with my answer, despite the lack of emotion on her face.

Good.

That's as when Hawkeye walked in, just in from a mission judging by the scent of sweat coming off of him and the way he was slightly scuffed up and dusty. He tossed his bow and quiver onto the coffee table, and looked over at me. His eyebrows rose immediately at the sight of my injuries. He whistled.

"Wow, that's a pretty blue," he remarked sarcastically, examining my black eye without actually getting close to me. "What happened?"

I turned my head, hearing Peter coming back out form his room. I turned so my back was to the hallway he had went down, and spoke and signed at the same time.

"Three idiots tried to mug me. I scared them off, but not before they got in a few lucky hits," I said out loud. _Old teacher,_ I signed at the same time, making both other assassin's eye's widen slightly. Clint frowned, eyebrows furrowing after a second. "They got away, which pisses me off. But I'm fine, so I guess I shouldn't complain."

I didn't need to sign along with that one, knowing they'd get what I meant. My old teacher was still at large. They traded glances.

"Hey Hebi!" Peter called out, sticking his head around the corner. "I got everything set up for us to plan, you wanna start? If we work in the living room I'll just get distracted by the TV."

I nodded at him, swinging my backpack off and tossing it to him. He didn't fumble it like usual, catching it easily even though he seemed surprised by my sudden action. I frowned but stubbornly pushed my thoughts away from trying to decipher what it meant.

"Yeah, I'll be right there. I'm gonna get something to drink real fast, that okay?"

Peter nodded, eyes widening. "Oh yeah! I totally didn't think to ask if you wanted anything. You can take anything you want in the fridge—"

"Except the beer," Clint quipped instantly, making both me and Peter roll our eyes.

"—I'll put your bag in the room for you. Come in when you're ready to start brainstorming!" He turned and went back in, making me turn to Hawkeye and Black Widow again. Deciding to carry through with my excuse, I went and opened the fridge to look for something to drink.

"Need help with self defense?" Natasha asked with a carefully casual tone. I looked back at her, and saw what she actually meant in her eyes. _Do we need to be on alert?_ I shook my head, turning to sign;

" _Me and Daredevil will handle it_ ," I signed, pausing only to grab a coke and close the fridge. "Nah, I'm not helpless," I responded out loud. _"But she knows who I am, so keep an eye on the school."_

Clint nodded at that, and I knew he and Natasha would do just that out of concern for Peter's safety if nothing else. Nodding, I waved at them with one hand and went to join Peter.

"Thanks though, but I better go help Peter out now. See you later," I said as I left. Clint gave me a cheery farewell, while Natasha just sipped from her tea.

—*—*—*—*—*

Peter swung through the streets two night later, thinking idly about his and Hebi's project as he scanned for criminals. The project was due in two weeks, and they got a few work days in class so it wasn't completely done after school, and the two of them were making pretty good progress. He had known she had had a good grasp of chemistry, but it wasn't until he actually started brainstorming with her that he realized just how naturally it came to her.

It was pretty awesome, really, to have someone else who understood what it was like for it to just click. To understand how it felt for reactions and equations and outcomes to easily work themselves out mentally, and open up so many routes for new possibilities. New compounds, new reactions, those possibilities just popped in his head from the mixing of his other knowledge and Hebi understood that.

It was a really nice change of pace.

He knew he wasn't completely alone in that before Hebi. Tony knew that feeling with mechanics, and Ned with coding, and MJ with psychology. Bruce had admitted to having the same feeling with Chemistry, but the age difference made it hard for Peter to actually _feel_ understood. With Hebi, it was easy, not only did she get Chemistry like him, but biology too. Both of those were his own specialties, though he was also extremely good at mechanics… which Hebi was still really bad at. She was getting better, but she was still bad.

They had managed to theorize a way to grow a graft of skin around a mold and pump blood through it to keep it alive, making a type of "living" model to demonstrate with, and were in the design phase. Peter dropped down when Karen's voice in his ear told him of a couple being held at gunpoint, and he dropped down out of habit.

There were too people, a woman with short navy blue hair, and a man with a suspiciously military-looking gun. Peter didn't even bother looking at who they were targeting, shooting web over the opening of the gun.

"That's dangerous, you should get a new toy," he quipped, tugging the gun away and tossing it down the alleyway before lunging in and punching the man in the gut. When the guy was out, he webbed him up snugly and turned as he saw the blue haired lady trying to kick Hebi.

Wait, Hebi?

_Hebi?_

_H e b i?_

He watched for a stunned second as his friend deflected the kick, catching the leg by the knee and shifting her weight to toss the woman over her shoulder. The mysterious lady rolled, and barely dodged the glob of webbing that Peter had shot at her once he snapped out of his shock. Seeing the hero in the alley, she ran.

Peter raised a wrist to shoot a web up and follow her, but he was stopped by a familiar voice.

"Thank you," Hebi said, looking over at him. "I'm usually good at protecting myself, but my dad was here today," she jerked her head back and Peter saw with another flash of shock that Matthew Murdock was indeed there, standing against the wall of the alley. It didn't look like he was hurt, Hebi had probably pushed him back to protect him.

"Uh yeah," Peter answered, suddenly making a conscious effort to lower his voice. "No problem. Hey, I've met you before right? Try not to attract so much danger, random stranger. I have to go now or I won't be able to catch that woman," he rambled. He saw Matt slump over, which Peter had assumed was in order for the man to calm down and catch his breath after the stressful event.

In reality, Matt had recognized the boy's voice and had ducked his head to hide his struggle against laughter. The poor teen was horrible at disguising his voice and his attempt at casual conversation was absolutely hilarious. It was all he could do to restrain himself to smiling widely with his head ducked out of Peter's view.

"No!" Hebi said suddenly, startling Peter. "Stay here, I need to calm down my dad and I can't keep an eye out for anyone else if I'm doing that. Can you make sure nobody else comes to attack us while I do that?" She asked, her voice calming down significantly after her initial refusal to let Spider-Man chase the woman who had assaulted her.

Peter frowned under his mask, but nodded.

"Sure," he agreed, hoping his reluctance didn't seep through.

Hebi walked over to her Dad, pretending to get him to look at her and take deep breaths… which she actually did do, but not to get him to calm down out of panic. It was to get him to not laugh. Hebi even pinched him in annoyance on the arm.

"I called the cops for you, so I'll stay here until they arrive okay?" Peter told them, taking a couple steps over and speaking as reassuringly as he could. Hebi nodded and shot him a thankful smile before turning back to her dad.

"Hey Dad, is it okay if I leave you with the cops and call Foggy to get you?" She asked, making Matt stiffen since it was the first time she had actually used the title when talking directly to him. She ignored his reaction and continued; "I just remembered I forgot a pair of my sunglasses at the Tower, and I want to go pick them up. Besides, Pete told me to tell him the next time something like this happened. With it being so soon after the last attack, I figured he'd prefer if I told him right away," she said.

Peter stiffened immediately, eye's (Both real ones and the mask's) widened in shock.

Hebi didn't leave any sunglasses at the Tower. She had never even _brought_ any to the Tower.

He turned his head, and saw Hebi staring at him all too knowingly.

Ah, shit.

—*—*—*—*—*

Hebi handed Matt off to the cops after making her own statement, asking them to take him to the station so a friend could pick him up. She had already told them everything they needed, and said she needed to go do something. Matt vouched for her, saying she needed to go visit friends of her own to inform them about what happened and that they'd prefer that to happen in person.

So that led to Hebi marching down to the Tower, the very picture of a woman on a mission. At first she had felt shocked, and then betrayed, when she had taken a taste of the air and recognized _Peter's_ scent coming from Spider-Man. But as she walked, her steps got softer and the betrayal bled away into understanding. She was never mad, maybe a little hurt but not mad, and as she made the walk all the pieces snapped into place.

All the clues she had so steadfastly ignored over the two months of knowing Peter floated to the surface, suddenly connecting into an obvious picture. A picture she had chosen not to see, but could no longer ignore.

After her second visit, Hebi had gotten a visitor pass so that she could enter the Tower and pass security whenever she wanted. So she used it to walk through the front entrance, and scanned it once she passed the metal detectors.

" _Hebi Teal,"_ Friday's voice said warmly(?). Hebi had made sure Tony had put her in the public system as just Teal instead of Teal-Murdock for security reasons. " _Clearance level four. Welcome back, Hebi. Peter is expecting you."_

Of course he is, she had purposely given a lie that he would immediately catch so that he would know that she wanted to talk to him.

"Thanks Friday, take me up."

" _Sure thing, Miss Hebi."_

Hebi walked out into the common room, immediately seeing Peter pacing in the living room surrounded by a couple Avengers. Nat, Clint, Tony, and Steve. Peter was still in the suit, without the mask.

Hebi sighed at the sight, rubbing her forehead and walking over. She got within two feet, and looked across into his eyes for a moment as he fidgeted under her silence. They were exactly the same height, something Hebi had noted before but shoved to the back of her mind. She grinned at him.

"You are horrible at keep secrets you know. You are damn lucky I didn't want to be invasive and ignored all of the glaringly obvious clues that I've put together now. The way you choke every time I joke about or mention spider-Man, the way Ned can't help but glance at you every time he comes up in conversation, the way your reflexes randomly seem to sharpen," Hebi shook her head in mock disappointment. "I tried so hard not to notice Pete, you have no idea, but hearing your voice while you were in the suit was the nail in your secret's coffin."

Peter blinked owlishly. "You're… not mad?"

It was Hebi's turn to blink, and she raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Mad? No," she said honestly. "I was a bit hurt for a minute when I thought about you not trusting me, but that was probably just because of the shock of everything. I understand needing to keep it a secret," she shrugged. "The more people that know, the more who are in danger right? Makes sense. But I can take care of myself, so don't worry about me," she told him stubbornly, poking a finger at his chest above the spider emblem. It looked suspiciously like a button, so she avoided hitting it directly just in case it wasn't fingerprint coded… which is probably was, if Tony made it.

Peter was staring at her with wide eyes, and the room was silent. Then Tony laughed.

"Perfect!" He said, sitting up. "Told you there was nothing to worry about, Pete. She's a keeper."

"We're not dating," Peter protested weakly, even as Hebi snorted at Tony's remark. She flipped her head back so that her bangs flopped back dramatically, and put a hand on her hip.

"I am definitely a keeper, thanks for noticing," she joked, making Tony and Steve laugh.

"Well Hebi, you're officially in on the big secret," Steve said with a smile. The smile faded at his next lien: "I'm sure you know already, but you can't tell anyone about Peter's identity. It's too dangerous."

Hebi met his gaze seriously for a moment before looking away and waving her hand in dismissal.

"Obviously," she agreed. "Don't worry, I'm way better at keeping a secret than Peter."

Natasha snorted, and Clint carefully kept his face blank. That was true, most of the Avengers were still clueless. Natasha and Clint stayed silent, enjoying the dramatic irony.

"Anyone's better at it than Peter," Clint said cheerily, earning a glare from the young vigilante.

Hebi sighed, making a face. "Actually, Matt's just as bad," she said, her tone one of long suffering and despair. "He's a badass in court, but he stutters and twitches whenever he has to lie. It's hard to watch."

He had been getting a _little_ better, but was still only passable when Hebi was there to help him and had coached him for a specific lie. He still couldn't ad-lib a lie to save his life.

"Cool. So, if I agree to let you guys train me, can I be unofficial backup?" Hebi asked smoothly, crossing her arms and staring steadily back at all the heroes she had just shocked.

"I'm sorry, _what?"_ Peter asked, voice cracking. "No way, you attract way too much danger as it is. This is the second time you've been attacked _this week_ —"

"Yeah? And how many injuries do I have?" She asked, and he snapped his mouth shut. She nodded. "In fact, how many visible injuries have I had out of all three times you've seen me after being attacked?"

His jaw worked for a minute, and he clenched it.

"Just your bruising, black eye, and cut from the mugging two days ago," Steve answered softly for the younger man, mouth taut in a frown but eyes thoughtful. He looked over at Tony with a raised brow, the billionaire staring hard at Hebi and tapping his foot as he thought.

Hebi waited.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," Clint spoke up slowly, making sure he came off reluctant to make sure nobody got suspicious. In reality, he was glad that Hebi would have Peter's back. He knew she could really come in handy if Pete was ever in a tough spot and the rest of them couldn't get there in time. "She already has fighting experience, right? And it's not like powers are necessary for crime fighting," he gestured to himself and Nat to make his point. "We'll make sure she's up to our standards, and keep her as strictly emergency aid for Peter if we can't make it."

Tony's frown deepened.

"I won't be a vigilante," Hebi interjected, not about to force herself to juggle two costumes and alternate identities. "But if Peter is nearby and needs my help, I'll be able to fight or focus on rescue so that _he_ can focus on whatever is most important at the time."

"Hebi…" Peter said softly, eyes still wide. "You don't…"

"I worry about my friends," she shot right back, repeating the words he had said to her earlier that week right back at him. "Any argument you make against my choice will be met with stubbornness the likes of which not even _you_ have ever seen before. And very many claims of you being a hypocrite, which you _would be."_

Tony sighed, getting both teens to look over at him. He pinned her with a hard stare.

"There will be ground rules," he said slowly. "One: you will not be fighting anyone Enhanced, you will contact us immediately if Peter needs help with someone Enhanced, got it?" She nodded. "Two: the second you get hurt worse than a superficial cut or bruise, you're out. You back up and let us take over, got it?" She frowned, but nodded again. She could always play it by ear and defy that rule if she thought it necessary. "Three: you won't help _at all_ until Clint, Natasha, and Bucky clear you. Or Steve, if he wants to help you train too," he waved to the present supersoldier nonchalantly. "Got it?"

Hebi grinned, nodding one last time. "I knew you'd see it my way. I'll tell my dad you guys offered to help me improve my self defense, and I won't mention Spider-Man to him," she offered, though it was a half-lie. She _wouldn't_ mention Spider-Man, because she already knew she didn't _have to_ , Matt already figured it out himself. He'd understand her choice.

Steve smiles a bit reluctantly, stand up and holding out a hand for her to shake.

"It's a deal then," the blonde agreed. "From one stubborn brat to another, welcome to the team."

—*—*—*—*—*

**Muahahahahaha**

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday. I had a two-hour-long asthma attack and conked out for twelve hours afterwards. Don't ask why I didn't go to the hospital, it wasn't** _**that** _ **bad and I didn't have medicine on hand. It was uncomfortable and slightly painful, but not life threatening so don't worry.**

**But yeah, I am updating now.**

**Also, I know I've been updating daily but I have NO GUARANTEE on how long that will last. Since I first started updating daily, only up to chapter 8 had already been written. Chapter 9 until now have all been written in their entirety** _**THE SAME DAY** _ **that they were posted on here. So, the update speed depends on my determination to write 6,000+ words every day, and I just don't know how long that will last. It works right now because I am so absorbed in the story at the moment, but again this is not going to be a permanent thing.**

**But enough of that, thank you so much for reading and see you next chapter!~**


	13. Chapter 13

"Come on, I know you can do better than that,"Natasha scolded as she managed to wrap her legs around my waist and take me down. I blinked, twisting my torso to look up at her.

"So this is what it's like to be on the other side of that move," I mused out loud, throwing her off. Then I had to take a hasty leap backwards to avoid a rubber tipped arrow that landed and bounced off of the ground where I had just been.

Deciding that trying to take it easy on Natasha was stupid, I used every trick in my non-mutated-abilities arsenal. Since it was only her and Clint, there was no reason for us to dumb down training to hide my identity. With that in mind, our fighting sped up.

She was just as good as Matt, which meant I got my ass soundly handed to me between her and Clint. Still, they didn't slow down and I loved it. I managed to sweep Natasha's ankles out from under her, but she turned that against me by slamming one of those feet up at my face, slamming her palms on the ground to break her fall before smoothly rolling back up and coming at me again. I had barely dodged her insanely fast kick, just in time to catch her next hit and throw her. She took the flight gracefully, flipping and landing on her feet before we were at it again.

One of Clint's rubber arrows barely whizzed past my nose as I curved under it, taking a page out of Natasha's book and using the momentary disruption of my balance to my advantage as I lifted one leg off the ground with my movement, and successfully landed my first solid kick to the redhead's side. She went tumbling, but got up immediately with a nod.

"Good—"

"What is going on?" A familiar voice asked, equal parts confused, annoyed, and angry. I flinched, having taken out my hearing aids to avoid them getting broken in the spar. Clint jumped down from his spot up high to join me and Nat as we turned to face Bucky.

My hero was standing with both arms crossed, and mouth in a taut frown. Luckily, he was the only one there so there was still the chance of containing the secret. Still, Bucky would have to be let in on it after the spar he had just witnessed, or else he might tell on Natasha and Clint for going too hard on someone he thought was a rookie— thus exposing my identity to everyone.

"I need a beer," Clint announced, setting down the practice arrows and quiver he had been using. "You know how, on Thursday, Steve and Tony made the announcement about Hebi being Peter's unofficial emergency backup since she found out about Spider-Man?"

Bucky nodded. It was Sunday, three days since that discussion, meaning it was the first required training session needed before I could start actually _being_ backup.

"Good, then let's go up to my floor," Natasha interjected. "We'll all have something to drink, and Stark doesn't watch my cameras," Tony was too smart to be _that_ suicidal. "And we can clue you in to your number one fan's own secrets."

Bucky looked over at me, but I turned my head away. This was a nightmare.

Five minutes later, and we were all sat around Natasha's kitchen counter. Clint had a beer, Natasha had the Danger and Spice tea (steadfastly ignoring my amused look as she brewed it for herself), and Bucky had a cup of the Meditation blend tea. I opted for just a cup of water, afraid I'd spill anything else and make a stain.

"Okay, explain," Bucky said after his first sip of tea. He was visually calmer, but I knew that didn't mean much. His form was still tense, and his gaze slid over to me every few seconds. "That spar was way too advanced for a rookie," called it, "And she responded too well to actually _be_ a rookie."

Go away, pride. Don't take that as a compliment, he's angry at you damn it, I thought to myself at the swelling of warmth in my chest. It disappeared swiftly at the realization that I had to explain a lot of my past to him. Out loud.

Bucky Barnes.

Yeah, happiness successfully demolished.

I sighed, running a hand down my face as I thought about how to start. Luckily, Nat was one step ahead as always. She stood up, walking into her room and coming out a moment later with a thick file. She handed it to Bucky.

"The summary is the first three pages, everything else is more in depth," she explained. The supersoldier raised an eyebrow, but flipped the file open.

"Dryad?" He asked. "What does this have to do with…" he had obviously read the first few lines, likely explaining that Dryad kidnapped orphans with the goal of training child assassins. His wide eyes flew up to mine before his gaze hardened and he looked back down to read the file.

I forced myself to remain still, my face carefully blank even as I could feel the unsteady beat of my heart in my chest.

No weakness. No emotion. No matter what his reaction was, I wouldn't be affected. I _couldn't_ be affected.

Slowly, the familiar feeling of detachment slid over my mind like a blanket, numbing me slightly to everything physical and emotional. I wasn't as conscious of the fact that the room was kept at a cooler temperature than the rest of the building, or that the leather sofa was stiff and squeaky under me to give away the fact that it was hardly used.

I let my gaze drift away from Bucky as he read, focusing on the smoothness of the walls. The impersonal decoration. The suspicious redhead watching my face closely.

"Now flip to page twenty," Natasha spoke. I didn't look at my h— at the former assassin sitting across from me, reading.

It seemed simultaneously like an instant and an eternity before he finished, and set the file down. "Hebi," he said softly, and I turned to look at him. Something made him frown deeply, and he leaned forward over his knees without ever disconnecting his eyes from mine. "Hebi," he repeated just as softly as before, but more firmly. "You can talk to me."

I blinked, examining his expression. His frown lifted into the world's tiniest grin.

"Come on, we're all former assassins here, we all have really shitty pasts. Off with the mask."

My shoulders relaxed without my approval, and I took a slow breath. The light in the room seemed to get more intense, which I knew was just a sign that my disconnection was wearing off and things were coming back into focus.

"I'm sorry," I blurted, suddenly having no filter. "Natasha and Clint knew, and I figured that was good enough for now, and I don't want anyone to think badly about me. I'm really trying to get better, I really am. But it's hard, and sometimes I regress, and Daredevil is always a little disappointed when I almost kill someone so I really do try hard not to. I remind myself that you went through a hundred times worse, and that if you did it then I should be able to get through my shit just fine and—"

"I was already an adult and a war veteran when I was kidnapped by Hydra," he interrupted firmly, and I snapped my jaw shut. "And I'm not fine. None of us are, really," he admitted, running a hand through his long hair. "It's okay to not be fine. But you can't compare yourself to me. By the time I was taken, I had the willpower to resist so they had no choice but to brainwash me to get me to…" he sighed, and none of us needed him to complete that sentence so he didn't. "But they got you when you were already emotionally vulnerable, and before you were even old enough to have the kind of backbone needed to refuse to do what they told you. That's not your fault."

I grit my jaw, looking down.

"Yeah, you're like a knockoff version of Nat," Clint interrupted, grinning although his humor was subdued and his eyes were solemn. "That's why she's such a cold bitch to you, she—"

"Stop talking, Barton," Natasha interrupted, voice steely. He stopped.

"Never call me a knockoff again, or I will _knock off_ something very precious to you from your body," I threatened blandly, my face in a deadpan. Clint visibly (probably dramatically) shivered.

Bucky snorted, grinning. He leaned back, tapping the folder on the counter in front of him with one finger.

"This file says you are Enhanced, but it's suspiciously missing a power profile. Wanna tell me more about that, or do you wanna keep that secret?" He asked. I appreciated the sentiment, but he both knew that "secret" wasn't really an option with my powers, not if I wanted to train them properly with these guys.

"Oh yeah, the power profile page," Clint said happily, snapping his fingers and ignoring Natasha's glare. "That's the one you burnt, right Nat?"

The redhead only glowered and sipped her tea, despite me suddenly blinking at her wordlessly.

She burnt it?

I had so many questions. None of which I actually planned to ask. Instead, I forced myself to look back at Bucky.

"Uh, yeah. Enhanced strength, more focused on muscle contraction than for lifting or hitting. I have a habit of crushing gun barrels with my bare hand," I explained, moving at an even pace as I spoke. "My linear bones—tibia, fibula, etcetera, have been replaced by vertebrae because of the experiments," I lifted one arm to demonstrate, curving it into an S before straightening it back out. "My sense of smell is extremely heightened, to the point of being able to track somebody across the city if necessary. I usually need an item from them if I'm not familiar with the person though, which is why I didn't link Peter to Spider-man right away despite meeting him a month before school started. I wasn't familiar enough with his scent back then," I continued. "My hearing is shit, but I have internal ears that can pick up only low frequencies, a few lower than what normal humans can hear," I tapped the back of my throat where my internal ears were. "My eyesight isn't twenty-twenty, but it's passable most of the time. I do have heat pits under the outermost layer of skin on my lips and under my nose though, so even if I'm blind or in pitch darkness, I can navigate by heat vision," I took a sip of water, and opened my mouth again, Bucky chuckled.

"You're still going?" He asked, eyebrow raised. I grinned back at him.

"Almost done, promise," I said with a raise of my right hand. "My skin is sensitive to vibrations. I can detect a person's heartbeat from the opposite outside wall or floor of a building if I focused. The rest of my abilities are more inactive. I can control my metabolism. I can only speed it up about five percent faster than a normal human, but I can _slow it down_ to operating at only thirty percent of a human's normal metabolic rate. Don't tell my dad, but I've actually went two weeks without food before and been just fine," I admitted. I twisted my mouth, thinking I was missing something. "Oh yeah, I'm partially cold blooded," I sighed, looking away in annoyance. "It's more of a nuisance than anything else. I think my body temperature is usually at a solid ninety degrees though, which is about eight degrees lower than a normal human's, so… yeah that might give a doctor a heart attack if they don't know," I said slowly. "Other than that, I have translucent scales over my eyes that go into shed and render me blind for one week every month. Hence the sunglasses and the stalling from coming over."

Bucky's eyebrows both rose at that last one, along with Clint's. Okay, so that hadn't been in the file that Clint had read before Natasha burned my power page. Good to know. Dryad had probably had the power page to give to customers in order to be more likely to "sell" me as an assassin, and therefore left out my weaknesses.

"When was your last shed?" Natasha asked, tapping her fingers on the counter. I blinked, remembering that one of Boa's fights had actually made the front page the previous week, and looked away with an overly casual expression on my face.

"Last week," I mumbled, sipping at my water. The redhead sighed, and Clint choked a little.

"Wait, what's wrong?" Bucky asked Natasha, making all three of us suddenly realize something.

Boa wouldn't have been in those outdated Dryad files.

I coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. "Uh. You know that Vigilante working with Daredevil?"

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. "That Boa kid? What abo—" his face suddenly went blank. "You're kidding."

I smiled sheepishly at him, making jazz hands in the air. "Surprise!"

The older man wasted no time smacking his metal hand on his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, and groaning miserably. "We _do_ have to deal with another trouble making vigilante kid," he despaired. Clint immediately burst into laughter at that, Nat smirking into her tea, as I was completely lost. And then I remembered—Spider-Man.

"I guarantee you I am not as bad as Pete."

—*—*—*—*—*

Having Bucky in on everything turned out to be a good thing. For one, he was a Supersoldier. Hence, he could match Hebi's Enhanced strength in ways Natasha and Clint couldn't. After making extremely sure that nobody could enter the room they were training in without them knowing ahead of time, they went back to it.

Bucky actually decided to lead her over to the corner of the gym with the weights, looking over them. "Do you know the upper limit of your lifting strength?"

She blinked, and tilted her head in thought. "I don't remember the testing results," She admitted. "But those would be outdated anyway, so no. Like I said, most of my strength is meant for crushing, not lifting."

Bucky nodded. "But you're gonna need to know your lifting strength as a vigilante. It's not all fighting, you're gonna help on rescues eventually and lifting debris can be a big part of that. Knowing your limits is essential to not overdoing it," he lectured.

"Let's start off small," Natasha suggested, patting the end of a five hundred pound weight. Hebi nodded, walking over and wrapping her hand loosely around the pole. It was meant for bench pressing, but Hebi knew it wasn't near enough for that for her. Experimentally, she lifted it with one hand before putting it back down and shaking her head.

"Way too light," she confirmed their suspicions. They moved to one of Steve's bench press weights, about a thousand pounds. Hebi went ahead got on the bench that time, just in case, and pushed up. "Nope," she said again, setting it back down. "Still light."

"Here, let's use Stark's special one," Clint suggested. "We used it to measure Pete's strength. We can manually adjust the weight electronically— due to a bunch of science mumbo jumbo I didn't understand," he waved his hand dismissively, and Bucky pulled over the right one. He popped it into place on the bench press, and Hebi took her position again. Natasha set it for one ton. Hebi lifted it, shook her head and Bucky added another five hundred pounds. It took them a good twenty minutes, not wanting to push Hebi too hard and making sure to take breaks when she started to slow down towards the end. Finally, she struggled as she pushed up the lump of metal, her arms shaking. She set the thing back down with a _clank_ , huffing.

"Yep, there it is," she confirmed before sliding out and stretching her tired arms. "What'd we get?" Bucky whistled appreciatively, tapping the digital display.

"Five tons," he responded. Sure enough, the numbers read: 10,000 lbs. "Not too shabby," he grinned. "Steve can lift roughly one thousand three hundred pounds, maybe one and a half if he puts more effort into it. I'm right about a thousand, even," he said, his hand teeter-totting in the air to show it was an approximation. "I'm not as strong as he is, since Hydra's serum was just a _remake_ and not quite as good as the original, but the gap isn't too huge."

She blinked, she could lift almost ten times Captain America and Bucky could? When not putting forth maximum effort or running on adrenaline, anyway. But still. Then Hebi realized the machine had been used to calculate _Peter's_ strength, which meant he had to have been just as, if not more, crazily enhanced with physical strength.

"What did Pete get?" The teen asked curiously. Natasha snorted.

"You're not gonna be the strongest anytime soon," she said, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. "Right now he's at about twelve tons, but he's still growing and getting stronger every day so there's no telling what he'll cap out at as an adult."

Hebi shrugged. "That's fine. I can settle with being the most flexible," she said easily, before blinking. "Shit. I forgot, I also have a really low oxygen requirement," she told them, remembering her most recently discovered ability. "I've been able to hold my breath about twenty minutes, but it might be longer if necessary."

"I thought we were done!" Clint teased, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. Hebi snorted. She knew she had a lot of little abilities, but not many were very strong and most of them had specific applications, so it wasn't like she was super strong overall or anything. Plus, the shed thing put a damper on most of her abilities for a solid week every month, so.

"She's also extremely fast with strike and reaction speed," Natasha piped up, eyebrow raised. "You saw that one, Barton."

Bucky blinked, and looked at Hebi again. After a minute, he nodded to himself. "Okay, let's spar."

Hebi froze for a moment, eyes wide. She stopped breathing without realizing it, a veritable statue. Clint turned his head, snickering to himself. Bucky rolled his eyes. Yeah, he liked Hebi, but he wasn't gonna go easy on her. She'd get over the hero thing eventually, like Peter did with Tony and Bruce.

"Come on," he said as he walked over to the large open area of the gym. He patted her shoulder with one hand as he went, as gently as he could. That minor contact was more than enough to wake her up, sending the girl jumping. After coming back to reality, she let out a slow breath and composed herself.

"Alright. I'm just gonna get my ass beat by Bucky Barnes. Totally fine," she muttered to herself. "Not super cool or anything. Nope."

Bucky shook his head at her, and got into position. Hebi followed suit.

"Remember," Bucky spoke softly. "I'm more durable than the other two. Use a little of your strength or I'll mow you over," he warned. Faced with that reality, Hebi calmed down the rest of the way and slipped into her fighting mentality.

He was right. She shouldn't get distracted by who he was to her. This was a spar, for however long it lasted she had to pretend that he was not a friend or idol or she would be at a disadvantage. In order to make sure she didn't get distracted, she utilized that skill that Stick had pointed out so long ago already. She detached herself like she had done earlier, but to a much more minor degree. Focusing on Bucky's face, she acknowledged all the emotions it brought her and temporarily shoved them into a mental box and slid the box away. She would reopen it when the spar was over.

Natasha called start. Hebi and Bucky both sprung forward, both of their enhanced speeds blurring their figures. Hebi was much smaller than Bucky, which gave her an advantage considering she was also stronger physically. But what he lacked (compared to her) in speed and brute strength he made up for tremendously in pure skill.

Hebi caught his metal hand in her own, squeezing to keep it still since she knew it was made of vibranium and wouldn't break even under her grip's pressure. It was almost funny to see her stop it, considering her hand was less than half the size of his. She continued with the movement fluidly, jumping and twisting in the air so her legs came up behind his neck. Before she could wrap him, he swung his arm aside and ducked under her legs, aiming a strong punch to her abdomen with his flesh fist. she gasped, letting go and flying several feet. Getting ahold of herself, she twisted to land on her feet. Once she did, Bucky was already back and hammering more hits towards her. She was ducking and twisting and jumping around his strokes, but a lot still glanced her. With his massive strength and the help of a heavy metal arm, even glancing strikes sent her reeling. At one point she had managed to balance on Bucky's metal arm with her hands, relentlessly kicking at his body with her other limbs even as he shook her off.

"Oh, I forgot about the perfect balance," Clint's voice came up from the background.

But she didn't let up, she kept coming back and back and back, shooting kicks at his knees and grabbing at his hair like the petty street fighter she was inside. Her hair was shorter than his, meaning he didn't really have much of anything to grab on in retaliation and had to deal with the abuse to his scalp with a grimace. He spun, gripping her wrists and throwing her off. She flipped, kicking off the wall he had thrown her into before she could truly impact on it. She had put all her strength into her toes there, sending her at him faster than he could dodge. She managed to wrap around him completely, but he jammed his fingers into a pressure point on her neck before she could start to squeeze too hard. That made her loosen enough for him to toss her down, pin her, and stop his metal fist just a few inches from her face.

They were both panting, but a few seconds was all that had to pass before Bucky pulled back and got off of her. Once he did, the box in Hebi's mind popped open and she couldn't stop her smile. That smile turned into a laugh of glee that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Still laughing, she grabbed his hand and let him help her up before stretching her back to work out the kinks she had gotten in it during the fight.

"Holy shit that was great," she said, shaking her head. Bucky rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms.

"You should still spar with us every weekend," he said. "You rely a little too much on your—"

" _Excuse me, but Peter, Captain Rogers, and Boss are headed up to see how Hebi did on her first day."_

Hebi cursed, running over to the center of the ring again.

"—abilities," Bucky finished with a sigh. "Okay, let's pretend to still be sparring normally. Barton, clear the bench press."

The adjustable weight still boasted Hebi's result, which disappeared once Clint shut the thing off and put it away so there was no evidence of it having moved.

When Steve, Tony, and Peter arrived, Bucky was busy dodging all of Hebi's strikes. She was going fast and professionally, but not superhumanly. Bucky was also attacking on a low level, and Hebi responded well. She made a show of getting hit once or twice on purpose, but for the most part it looked like they were keeping the spar even.

The dumbed-down spar ended in Bucky's win, obviously, and that was when Tony decided to clap his hands to get their attention (as if he hadn't already had it, but he didn't need to know that).

"So! What's the verdict?" Tony asked briskly. "How many months of training are we looking at before I have to worry about her risking her neck?"

Bucky and Hebi straightened up, and Nat and Clint walked over to join them.

"None," Bucky answered after sharing a brief glance with the other two adults. "Hebi was just getting tired, so we went easy that last spar. She's surprisingly advanced."

"We want her to still train with us every week," Natasha interrupted, hands on her hips. "But we're clearing her to be Pete's emergency backup effective immediately," Hebi pumped her fist in the air with a silent cheer as if she hadn't already known their decision.

"At this point, she's only gonna get better with lots of sparring and practice," Clint admitted. "We'll drill her in different scenarios she might encounter too, but her raw combat skill is up to par."

All three men had their jaws dropped. Some more obvious than others (being that only Tony kept his shock subtle, the other two were embarrassingly open books). The blonde of the group was the first to recover.

"Really?" He looked over at Hebi. "Well, that's amazing! Those three are extremely picky. Now how about we go and have dinner, they've probably worked you hard enough to starve you," Steve joked. Hebi rolled her eyes playfully, grinning. Peter was still gawking.

"But-Buh-but," He stammered, his hands flying everywhere in odd gestures that meant nothing. "But I've been training with them for almost three months now and they still say that I wouldn't be cleared for patrol if they were judging from pure technique!" He complained, then his head dropped into his hands and he groaned. "Howwwwwww?"

Hebi laughed at him unrepentantly. "I've told you since I first met you," she reminded him cheerfully. "I'm a badass, and I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Black eye, still healing cut," he argued, pointing to her face. Her black eye had stopped swelling as much, and was more of a green than a purple, black and blue now. She touched it gently, and tilted her head.

"I told you. Three guys, caught me off guard. You can't block _every_ hit," she defended herself, shrugging.

"I guess that just gives us a reason to teach you crowd control," Natasha spoke up deviously. Hebi paled for the first time in a while. "We can all attack you at once. How about next Sunday, same time?"

"I'm gonna die before graduation," she groaned miserably, sighing. "Yeah, I'll be here for you to beat up," she agreed reluctantly.

Tony looked really annoyed. "Damn it. I thought the training would stall you and snap you to your senses," he grumbled. "Whatever. I've handled one teenage vigilante, I can handle him _and_ a teenage backup for said vigilante. Do me a favor and don't die."

Hebi met his surprisingly serious eyes, and rose her eyebrows in response.

"Cheer up old man," she drawled. "I'm hungry, let's go eat."

She left the room, but nobody missed how she refused to promise Tony that she'd live. They stood there in somber thought for a moment before deciding to shrug it off and follow her.

All except Natasha, Clint, and Bucky, who shared frowns behind their friend's backs. They'd have to work on Hebi's possible death wish next.

—*—*—*—*—*

"You are fucked," Foggy said kindly. Shaking his head as he looked at me. I groaned, slamming my head forward in the desk.

"I hate to say it," Karen spoke up, "But I agree. One vigilante thing going on? Fine, you can barely handle it but fine," she rationalized, pausing to pat her papers against the table so the stack was even. "But two? And you get beat up by Matt on Saturday only to go and let avengers beat you up on Sunday?"

"I'm not _actually_ getting a second vigilante identity or anything," I protested, sliding a drawer shut as I helped Karen with filing. "No special suit, no code name, I'm basically a benched backup. Most of the Avengers haven't actually seen me spar, so they are going out of their way to make sure I won't need to help Pete out. It's not a problem," I told them stubbornly. It was Wednesday, and Peter had been complaining to me about his family keeping closer tabs than usual on his patrols in order to prevent her from having to actually do anything.

"Murphy's Law, Hebi," Matt warned, reading something in Braille. "It'll become a problem soon enough. Just wait."

"You are not helping," I said as I turned and pointed at him accusingly. "You were on my side just the other day. You said, 'good job thinking on the spot, Hebi,'" I mocked, making my voice gravelly in an imitation of his Daredevil voice. It made Foggy bark out a laugh.

"Yeah, but that's because I thought it would be a while before the Avenger's were actually out of the city, and that they might have known about Boa by then," he admitted. "But half of them are overseas for a mission today, and the other half is doing something undercover somewhere very classified,"

He reminded her. "Only Tony and Bruce are still here, and Tony is running communications and mission control for both halves of the team. If anything—"

"Don't say it," I warned him, knowing he was about to tempt the universe. "Don't—"

"I'm just saying that today is the kind of day Murphy's Law likes the most," he finished. Not ten seconds later, an explosion rocked the building from down the street. I glared at him.

"I told you not to," I said, throwing my hands up. "I fucking _told you."_

"It's okay Hebi," Foggy said consolingly, getting up and going to look out the window. "Hopefully it was just something normal. Explosions don't always… Yeah never mind, get your phone out."

I raised an eyebrow. I pulled out the device. "Why—" no sooner had those words left my mouth did the phone ring. "Oh my god, you've turned into a psychic," I said blandly, answering it. "Yeah?"

"Oh good, Hebi! Hey, uh," Peter's voice came through, following by sounds that were suspiciously familiar. I took a slow breath, walking next to Foggy to see what he saw. There, all the way down the street, was Spider-man fighting what looked like a guy with mechanic tentacles. I felt my eye twitch. They were heading away from the office, but that didn't mean much. "Well, Octy here might have ran us both straight through a building and d—Stark is busy, and Hulk wouldn't help right now. So, uh. Emergency?"

I felt like crying. "This is your fault," I said to Matt. "You had to jinx it," I turned my attention back to Peter. "Yeah, I'm guessing you want me on rescue?"

"Pretty plea—oh shit gotta go!"

He hung up on me. I sighed through my nose, tossing my phone to Matt and running to backpack. Inside was my hearing aid case, which was new. One side held my normal ones, which I put away and quickly replaced with the ones on the other side that had access to Spider-Man's comms. Then I slipped out what looked like a metal sphere, clicking the button and slipping the motorcycle-style helmet over my head.

"Yeah, no mask," Karen teased, but her face was tense. I waved her off.

"I'm just in rescue. You guys should go home just in case. Carefully. And you know, maybe Daredevil can remain on call," Matt only nodded tensely before I ran out into the street without another word. High-tailing it, I went straight into the crumbling and fire-ridden building. Apparently the crazy's metal arms had sparked a wire as he sent him and Spider-Man through it, starting a fire.

Great.

I grumbled in annoyance. Rescue was… not my strong suit. Combat, yes.

Saving people?

Uh.

I needed a 101 class for that. Spent too much time learning the _opposite._

Nonetheless, I ran right in and acted on as much logic and common sense as I had available for me in that situation. I pushed out anyone I ran into as I made my way up to the top floor of the tall building, grimacing as I could feel the instability in every floor of the building.

"You okay, Hebi? We're coming back you're way so be careful!" Peter's voice sparked to life through my hearing aids. I grunted in acknowledgement, having one passed out adult slung on either shoulder.

"I'm fine for now," I responded. The helmet covered my mouth, thankfully, and was equipped with an air filter to prevent me from breathing in smoke. "Thank your dad for this helmet by the way, because there is so much fire and I am thankful to not be coughing my lungs out right now."

"What do you mean, fi—oh, I see it, that's bad. Give me a se—heads up!"

I jumped out of the front door, putting the two people I had carried down in as safe a spot as I could find in two seconds. That was when Spider-Man came flying over my head to crash into the wall.

"Smooth," I muttered over the comms. He got up almost immediately, his head not even turning to me. "Toss me through the top window real quick?" I asked, already running towards him.

"Wait, what?" He said, but caught my ankle from where I jumped into the air anyway, and threw me up. The villain with the octopus arms managed to get there just in time for me to kick his face on the way up to catapult myself into the still burning building. I smiled to myself as Peter snorted over the comms before the sounds of fighting took over again. Trying incredibly hard to decipher the vibrations in the building, I steadily continued ferrying people down from the top to the bottom of the building. Once I got what I thought was the last person or and everyone that could still walk was helping the others get away, I saw a woman looking around frantically and searching for someone in the crowd.

Her body language was absolutely child's play to read. I groaned, running back into the building. First floor—no fresh human scent. It was hard to sift through the cloying, gag-worthy scent of smoke, but I forced myself to do it anyway. I kept sprinting up the stairs, finally picking it up.

Boy. Approximate age twelve, no vibrations except the very subtle thus of a heartbeat.

Well shit. Unconscious kid.

"Hebi?" Peter's voice came through my hearing aids. "Where are you? Karen says the building is structurally unsound and bound to fall any moment!"

I was extremely confused. Karen? But Peter had never met Karen. What was he talking about? "Who?"

"Oh, uh, the AI in my suit," he explained hastily. "I named her Karen— seriously, where are you? Doc Oc out here won't stay wrapped up long!"

I kicked down a door, rushing inside despite the fire being so close that the heat was drying my skin, sending my inner instincts flaring. It wanted out, it was threatened. It thought I couldn't protect us well enough, and wanted to take our survival into its own hands. I kept it down firmly.

"Eighth floor. Front of the building, fourth window from your— left, I think," I recited, finally seeing the boy's small form. His breaths were shallow and labored. "If I jump out the window will you catch us?"

" _Us?"_ He asked. "There's someone else? Hebi, Karen says the building is starting to fall! Jump now!" I grunted, having been intimately warmed of that two whole seconds before he could, having to shove aside a beam that had fallen between me and the kid. If not for super strength, we would have been separated far too well. Ignoring the new burns on my hands, I hadn't had time to put on gloated, I picked the boy up in a bridal hold and sprinted to the window.

"Coming out now!" I warned my friend, turning so that my back was the part of my body that burst through the glass. For a long moment that left me giddy with adrenaline, fear, and a creeping sense of resignation that I determined to firmly ignore the existence of, before a surprisingly strong arm wrapped around my waist. A short pendulum swing into an alley later, and Peter put me on the ground. I thanked him absently before running out to return the kid to his parent. I'd have time to thank him properly later. I didn't stay long enough for the frantic woman to thank me, above the boy into her arms and jogging away. I still managed to hear one choked sob and relieved sigh of a name, but got out of range quickly.

I was at home twenty minutes later, letting Foggy slather my hands in burn ointment, when a knock sounded at the door. I looked over to Matt.

"Who is it? My scent receptors are still too clogged with smoke," I asked him softly. He grinned, and went to answer the door without answering me.

"Hello?" He asked, playing his usual part.

"Oh, hi Mister Murdock. Is Hebi here?"

"Oh, Peter!" The jerk acted surprised, making me glower at the back of his head. "Yes, she's here. Do you want to see her?"

"Yes please. I just heard that she got asked by Spider-Man to be emergency rescue aid, and I wanted to check up to make sure she was okay," he rambled, unaware that Matt knew his secret, and Foggy was bound to make the last few connections after that awkward speech. I hadn't told him or Karen who spider-man was, only that I found out his identity and decided to be his nanny like with Matt.

My dad led my friend over to me, and I smiled up at him despite his wide eyes at the burns on my palm, clearly displayed with his Foggy was still treating them.

"Hebi!" He scolded, sitting next to me and taking one hand in his to look it over better. "Dad said you were supposed to back off the moment you got even a minor injury!"

I snorted. "First off, did you honestly think I'd listen to that?"

"I had hope," he said, sounding resigned. "I had very optimistic hope."

I laughed at him, shaking my head. "Besides, worry wart, I got these right before getting that last kid. So, technically, I _did_ back off right after getting hurt. Just had to push some hot debris away from him, nothing major," I assured him. He sighed, relaxing.

"We need to get you heat resistant gloves," he muttered. "At least the mask filtered out smoke."

The substance, but not the smell, I acknowledged silently with a mental funeral for my poor abused scent receptors.

"Anyway, thanks for helping out," Peter said, smiling widely at me. "It means a lot to— I mean, it probably means a lot to Spider-man, to have help like that when he's in a tough spot, you know?"

I stubbornly held back my amusement, smiling back.

"Look at that, you're all taken care off. Wrap up your hands to keep the ointment on, don't do anything stupid. Matt and I have to get back to work now," Foggy said, winking at me very unsubtly and making Peter burst into a dark red blush. I rolled my eyes as he dragged my dad out the door, and I turned to my friend.

"Don't thank me," I responded finally, leaning back. "You caught me, I owe you. Even if I did give you warning," I shrugged. Peter shook his head.

"That's my job though, you didn't have to help. But it means a lot, I don't think I would have gotten to everyone in time with that creep being so hard to take down. But you did waste a lot of time, so maybe Uncle Bucky and Aunt Mat can help you get better at rescue later," I shoved him playfully with my shoulder, and he laughed. "I can help you wrap your hands," he offered, taking up the gauze and doing the simple job for me. I let him.

"Not too bad for my first time helping out a vigilante though, huh?" I mused out loud. Peter shook his head happily.

"Nope, you did great."

It felt good. I didn't fight, I didn't hurt anyone. For the first time in a very long while, I only _helped._ I only _saved_.

It felt really, really good.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E m o t I o n s 
> 
> Are talked about ;P

Thank "We don't usually do this for Pete's patrols, but considering yesterday was a big fight _and_ your first time helping out, we decided to review the footage from your helmet and Pete's mask to have an official debrief," Steve was saying. I rose my eyebrow, looking around the common room we were sitting in like it was any other visit. It made him chuckle. "Okay, _mostly_ official. Just to see where we can improve on how you guys cooperate. You two are essentially a team now, after all."

"An _emergency only_ team," Tony reiterated firmly.

I looked over at Clint, who winked. Something tense inside me relaxed— he and Nat must have edited out the part of me moving the beam out of the way. That was a relief.

"We just trimmed it down to the essential parts, for time's sake," Bucky assured me gently. I held back a grin, sighing in playful relief instead.

"Oh good because that was the longest twenty minutes of my life, and I rather not watch myself flounder around cluelessly for the whole time all over again," I joked.

"What, you've never rescued ten people from a burning building before?" Tony joked, earning a deadpan glare from me.

"I already told you that you did good!" Peter assured me for the millionth time. I rolled my eyes with a small grin.

Rhodey cleared his throat, giving us both meaningful looks. Peter ducked his head in embarrassment, but I just stuck my tongue out immaturely. "Anyway," the colonel said pointedly, ignoring me. "Let's start with the beginning of Pete's fight, FRIDAY. Might as well critique his entire fight while we're here."

Peter sat up, paying just as much attention as the rest of us as the video started to play as a hologram in front of us.

" _Yo, wacko! What's with the extra arms?"_ Peter's voice came through from behind the camera, since his mask was the thing filming. I glanced over at him, making sure he saw my unimpressed look. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. _"Are you a cosplayer? Because if you're going for Squidward, you're way off!"_

I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a snort. Oh boy.

"I pulled some video from cameras on the street too, for a better look," Tony told them as the perspective changed, and we were able to see Spider-Man dodging the man's four mechanical arms, and landing a few strong hits that didn't do as much damage as they should have. I figured it was because of the metal harness around the guy's chest.

The guy that Peter eventually named Doctor Octopus in the fight. I tilted my head, tossing the name in my head.

"It fits," I complimented, nodding. Peter snorted, and smiled at me widely.

"I know, right!"

They were shushed, and we resumed watching the fight until it got to the part where Doc Oc shoved them both through the building, and Peter called me. They decided to skip through some of Peter's fight to review most of my rescue, and me and Peter's teamwork. They froze the frame right after Peter threw me in the air, right when I landed a kick on Doc Oc's face.

"That," Sam pointed to the frame, "Is hilarious."

"And surprisingly good teamwork for their first time working together," Wanda spoke up. "Peter barely hesitated on throwing her, and Hebi didn't hesitate in trusting him to do it right."

I blinked. "I didn't, did I?" I asked out loud, actually surprised when I thought back on that. I usually didn't trust that easily, and I really had never seen Peter deal with anything that big before. Why had I just trusted him to _throw me_ up several stories? That was… uncharacteristic. I didn't just _trust_ someone to touch me or have power over me like that, and a throw that high had a lot of risk involved.

So why had I trusted Peter to do it without a second thought.

Everyone saw me suddenly deep in thought, and Natasha was the one that suggested they continue watching and leave me to think. So they did.

I could feel eyes on me as I pondered why I seemed to trust Peter so much, even subconsciously. It just wasn't normal. It wasn't _me._ I trusted Matt, truly trusted him, only after a month of living with him. Even then, I wouldn't trust him to throw me several stories...mostly because I had no idea how good his aim was over long distances and he was still _blind._ And now that I thought about it, Peter got away with a lot that others didn't get away with. During my first shed at school, he had touched my shoulder and I had only relaxed instead of freaked like I did with everyone else. I found myself with my guard down around him, saying truthful things I would never say to anyone else except maybe Matt. Even then, it depended. Like when Peter had said that I was better than pettily tripping Flash, and I admitted that maybe I wasn't.

With Matt, trust had been a conscious effort that slowly got better. With Peter, it had happened without my permission. I hadn't even realized it until just then.

It didn't make sense.

I finally decided to acknowledge the eyes that were on me, looking up and meeting Bucky's all too knowing gaze. He jerked his head to the side, and I nodded, standing up. Steve pauses the video, eyebrows furrowed.

"Hebi? We were just about to give our review on your rescue," he said, sounding confused. I smiled lopsidedly, but Bucky replies before I could.

"Just give her the quick notes later, Stevie. I need to talk with her for a second," Bucky told him, walking to the elevator with me close behind. "We'll be on my personal floor if you need us."

"But—"

"Let them go, Cap," Clint interrupted, voice almost too serious considering how silly he usually was. "This is part of that background check me and Nat did. Kid needs to hear what Bucky says."

"Do you want to elaborate on that?" Rhodey asked gently, frowning. "Because Bucky doesn't seem like he has a lot of advice for normal teenage girls."

"Hebi can fight professionally and just helped save ten people from a burning building, Rhodes," Natasha added, meeting the man's gaze firmly. "She was never completely normal. But no, we're not going to elaborate. It's personal and it's not important for you to know right now. If it becomes important, we'll tell you," the redhead crossed her arms. "For now, give the girl her privacy."

Just as the elevator doors closed, I saw Peter frowning and looking worriedly over at me.

—*—*—*—*—*

Hebi chuckled when Bucky poured them some of her Meditation Blend tea. "How many jars of this do you guys have?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know it's one of my best sellers, but this is a little crazy."

Bucky smirked, taking a sip from his own mug. "Don't you check the addresses you mail out to? You never noticed selling several boxes to Avengers Tower?" He shot back, making her shrug.

"I don't bother reading the labels on my shed, even though I have tech on my sunglasses that allow me to do that, and my dad and his friend help mail stuff out too," The teen admitted. Luckily, she didn't sell a blend if she didn't like it in the first place so Hebi just sipped happily from the mug he made for her. Bucky just shrugged before leaning forward. They were sitting on the same sofa on Bucky's floor, which he actually shared with Steve for multiple reasons, and set his mug down on the coffee table.

"So. You zoned out a bit after Wanda pointed out about how easily you trusted Peter," he reminded her, making her come back to the reason they were up there in the first place. "I'm guessing it wasn't something you thought out beforehand?"

Hebi shifted, looking into her mug as if the light green liquid would hold the answers to all her questions.

"I didn't really think about how much trust that took until she pointed it out," Hebi admitted slowly. "Or jumping out the window and trusting him to catch me. It just seemed like the most logical thing to do. The fastest route to finish what I needed to do and get to safety, respectively," she told him. "But the more I think about it, the more confused I get," she paused to sip from her mug. "There were a million ways I could have done the same thing without giving away my identity or relying on Peter, but.."

"But they would have taken more effort or slightly more time, right?" Bucky asked, making the girl shrug.

"Most of them, maybe. But I could have just jumped out of the window and use the drainpipe to slow my descent. It would have been just as fast," I told him. "But I didn't. And that's weird, because I didn't even trust Matt, my dad, to touch me even on the shoulder for _weeks_ after meeting him without jumping. But just one week after meeting Pete, and he can put a hand on my shoulder when I'm on shed and even more antsy than usual, and I _relaxed,"_ Hebi put the mug down on the table, running both hands through her short hair. "It doesn't _make sense."_

"You trust him," Bucky said matter of factly, earning a "no shit," glare from Hebi that he took with grace.

"I _know that_ ," she retorted, frustrated. "But _why?_ I've never trusted anyone that quickly. I'm an opportunist, someone offers me a place to stay and I accept it but I sleep with one eye open. Someone offers me food, and I take it but I sniff for poisons. Trusting isn't _what I do,_ it's not who I am. It hasn't been for years," she confided in the man.

"You're talking to me," Bucky pointed out. "You told me, Nat, and Barton about your abilities and their weaknesses, you spar with us. Isn't that trust on some level?"

"No," She responded. "It's logic. I told you my abilities so that you guys could help me train better. Give a little for a bigger return. I spar with you so that I get stronger, and if you ever turn on me I'll know at least a little of your fighting styles," Hebi told him easily. "Liking somebody doesn't equate to trusting them. I'm telling you this right now because I'm _confused_ and _frustrated_ and you're the only one I can think of to give me an answer," she admitted. "Liking somebody is easy," she picked up her mug again. "Too easy. It's trust I have an issue with."

Bucky stared at her for a while, sipping his tea. "I know," he responded after a while. "But it isn't everyone _else_ you don't trust, is it? Or at the very least, there's someone you distrust even _more."_

Her grip on the mug tightened, sending spiderweb cracks over the handle of the ceramic dish. She quickly relaxed her grip before it could shatter completely. She didn't answer, gritting her jaw. But Bucky wasn't going to be easy on her.

"You don't trust _yourself_ , Hebi," his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "You don't get close to people because you're afraid of what you can do to them. You told us your weaknesses so that we'd know in case _you_ turned on _us._ You don't like people touching you because you know how easily just one of your fingers can kill a person."

Hebi's eyes were suspiciously wet and glossy. She took a deep breath. "I…"

"You see the people you've hurt in the faces of everyone close to you, don't you?" He kept going, his tone still as gentle as ever.

And Hebi couldn't bring herself to be angry. She wanted to be, she wanted to feel violated for someone being able to see through her so easily. But she couldn't, because she knew he wasn't just _seeing through_ her. He only saw what he pointed out because he recognized it, and she knew that. She knew it because she saw those things in him, too. How only Steve could touch him without making the man twitch. How Bucky always sat a foot or two away from anyone else, careful not to even bump elbows. How he made jokes about how the spot on his shoulder where his metal arm connected to flesh would ache in colder weather, a subtle hint to the vulnerability of the spot.

Only knowing him for a few days, and it was easy to pick up. Because she recognized it.

The teen finished off her tea and set the mug down gently, taking a dangerously shaky breath.

She knew Bucky didn't need a confirmation.

She knew the number in her files, and Bucky knew the number well from staring at it so long the night after he found out about her secrets. After her experimentation was over, Hebi had been forced on an average of two assassinations a month until she finally ran away.

She had over a hundred kills to her name before she had even turned twelve.

Bucky knew a lot about guilt, but he had no idea what kind of toll something like that would take on a _child._ He did know, though, that it was a miracle Hebi could still smile and joke and be a halfway normal teenager. She was fragile and broken and hurt, but she was so much better off than she could have been. She still managed to cling to some form of humanity, some tenderness, that he was shocked could still exist after the hell and pain and guilt she experienced.

"I have Stevie," Bucky decided to say slowly. "He was my friend before everything that happened, and he stayed my friend after. He knows all sides of me, past and present," he admitted to the far too young woman sitting in front of him. Because "girl" didn't quite fit her all the time. She hadn't been a "girl" in years, he figured, since she was forced to mature too quickly. "But if he didn't have every ability he did, if he wasn't stronger than me, I don't think I'd be as comfortable with him now as I am," he cradled his ceramic mug in his hands. "But he is. And if I revert, if I regress, I know he'll stop me. And while that can be scary, knowing he's able to take me down if he needs to, it's far more comforting," Bucky looked up into Hebi's eyes. "I think you knew subconsciously that Peter was Spider-Man the whole time. Some part of you might have recognized that he was physically stronger, that he can pull you off of him if you attacked," he thought out loud. "You might be more skilled of a fighter, but you can't break Peter that easily. Especially now that you consciously know who he is, you know that he will do everything he can to take you down if you turn. You know he'll stop you," Bucky turned his head back to his tea, graciously ignoring the tears now streaming in silent rivers down Hebi's face. "In comparison to that, having him toss you up a few stories is nothing."

Hebi wiped furiously at her face.

What about Matt, then? Was she able to trust him because his senses were stronger, and he was a better fighter? Because she knew none of her assassin techniques would work on him?

Maybe. But after months of living with him, almost half a year already, she had grown to just trust him in general. To accept him as family.

What about Peter? Would he just always be a friend, then? She decided not to think about that yet. She'd figure that out eventually.

"Thank you," she breathed to Bucky, looking up at him. "I didn't need to be coddled, and you didn't do that. I'm better now, I think. So thanks."

Bucky just smiled, and stood up. "Ready to go back down?"

Hebi groaned dramatically. "Do I _have to_? I know Cap's just gonna order me to do rescue training with you guys on Sunday."

—*—*—*—*—*

"You did pretty good for your first time, but I want you to do specific rescue training with Barton, Natasha, and Bucky on Sunday," Steve said after a brief recap. I shot a deadpan look at Bucky, who snorted. "It's clear you didn't know exactly what to do, and you need to be more efficient next time.

Yeah, I thought wryly. It wasn't like saving lives came natural to me.

"Do you have any critiques of your own?" Steve asked next, his blue eyes kind as he looked down at me. "Now that you saw Peter fight an actual threat for the first time."

I made a face, and turned to look at my friend. He squirmed under my stare. " _Yes,"_ I confirmed emphatically, poking a finger in the center of Peter's chest gently. He gulped. "Why do you focus on strength?"

He blinked, and tilted his head. "Huh?"

"I mean, Natasha said you can life twelve tons, but you shouldn't focus on brute strength. You're not built for that," I explained, gesturing wildly with my hands. "I saw you trying to fight like Cap or Iron Man, and that just doesn't work for you. You don't have heavy ass armor, and you aren't heavily built like Steve. You might be physically able to lift a semi trailer over your head, but even a _normal_ person can take you down if they land the right hit, you just don't have the muscle mass to bear as many direct strike as Cap or your dad," I told him. "For example," I put my thumb over the pressure point in his neck, the same one Bucky had used on me during our spar several days earlier. "What would happen if we were fighting, and I hit you here?"

"He'd drop like a rock," Clint said cheerfully.

"Steve has more muscle protecting his neck, so he'd probably be able to deal with a normal person trying to hit this pressure point a lot more easily than you can. You're strong, but scrawny," I pointed out mercilessly. "And your dad is, as previously stated, constantly surrounded by _metal armor_ whenever he goes out. Your suit is strong, and yes it's made with flexible metal alloys, but it's specifically made to stop weapons like bullets or knives from piercing you. Blunt attacks will still do damage, because the suit is too skin tight and molded to your body. You're at even more risk when fighting anyone Enhanced. So don't just try to copy other people's fighting styles, that doesn't work for you. You need to make _your own._ And your webs aren't just transportation or restraints either, they're your weapon and they are unique _to you_. So capitalize on that."

Peter stared at me, mouth agape. He blinked rapidly for a minute. "Uh."

"We thought the same thing, but we wanted to see if you'd figure it out on your own," Natasha admitted to Peter. "We thought you'd realize it if we beat you up enough."

Peter shot her a betrayed look. "But! Buh! Ughhhh," he put his head in his hands and moaned in despair "I guess I have been trying to fight like them," he admitted miserably. "I'll work on it," I narrowed my eyes, watching his lips as he muttered something to himself. It was something along the lines of: _but they're so_ _ **cool**_.

"Good," I said happily, patting his shoulder before I realized what I was doing. I blinked, taking my hand off almost too quickly and turning around.

Yeah, that was going to take some getting used to now that I was conscious of it. "Okay! I'm hungry. Matt was planning on taking me to eat Italian, so you better be able to top it since you made me come out here on a weekday!"

Peter laughed while his dad scoffed. "You _do_ know who owns this tower, don't you?" The billionaire asked haughtily. "I ordered Shwarma."

I blinked, tilting my head and slowly turning around to face him. "What the hell is that?"

"You don't know what _shwarma_ is?" Tony sounded legitimately insulted. I rose an eyebrow.

"Should I?"

"No," Rhodey answered for me before Tony could, rolling his eyes. "Tones chose it as the Avenger's official meal though. Apparently it's where they all ate right after the Loki thing," he explained. "We have it once a month now, and you're just lucky, I guess."

I shrugged. "I'll eat pretty much anything, so it should be fine," I said smoothly. Fifteen minutes later, we were sat at the table and I was pleasantly surprised. "This is a lot more normal than I was expecting," I commented after taking a bite. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Ouch," the familiar voice of Scott, once again deciding to show up for the free food, spoke up when he and Hope entered the room. The woman's eyebrows rose at the sight of my face. It had been over a week, but while the black eye was almost healed it was still very noticeable. It knew it would disappear in another two or three days though. The cut, on the other hand, was nothing but a pale line almost completely gone.

"Who the hell managed to land a hit on you?" Hope asked, eyes moving from the bruise to my actual eyes. She led Scott to sit down instead of stand and gawk. He blinked after he was sat down, and shook his head with a still-gaping mouth.

"You've beaten Hope in every spar you've had with her," he said, sounding amazed and scared. He ignored my glare for his slip. "I don't want to _know_ how someone managed to give you a black eye."

"You've sparred against the Wasp?!" Peter asked, eyes wide in his face. The attention was on me, great. Damn it, Scott. I put down my pita and chicken, swallowing my mouthful reluctantly.

"Not in her suit," I answered, rubbing my forehead. "I get bored, I visit Hank's house, Hope is usually there, and it sometimes turns into a spar. The current record is nine to zero, guess who, and I take great pride in that."

"I don't," Hope joked, giving the world's tiniest smirk. I shrugged unapologetically.

"Wait wait wait," Tony interrupted, hand held up. "You mean to tell me that you know Hank Pym personally?"

"I know you, don't I?" I quipped, grinning. "It's not that far fetched that I'd know another rich nerd."

"Please tell me you don't know Osborn too, that would be two people who really don't like me and I don't need you selling them my secrets," Tony groused, huffing. I laughed.

"Are you kidding? Osborn is an asshole, no I've never met him in person and I don't _plan on it,"_ I assured him. "He's the kind of person who acts like the best person you'll ever know to your face, all the while planning to ruin your life," I scrunched my nose. "I'm also ninety-percent sure he has entire labs doing illegal shit. No thanks."

"Good, on that we agree," Tony nodded decisively. "Maybe you can help me plot against him some day. It's soothing," he offered, making me snort.

Subject thoroughly changed, thank you Tony, the conversation continued on without another hitch.

Thankfully, I already had a revenge plan for Scott laid out. But before I could enact it, Clint decided to be a little shit.

"You know, it's funny you mention her being able to beat Hope," he said to Scott, making me swallow and out my food down again, glaring at him.

"Katniss, don't you dare tell him," I growled warningly. He just grinned, purposefully reaching up and turning his hearing aids off before turning back to face Scott. I glared up at the ceiling.

"Because she found out about Pete being Spidey last week, after the whole black eye thing not before, and asked if she could be his emergency backup."

"Someone shut him up," I pleaded. Natasha was about to take pity on me and do just that, but Clint stood up and danced out of the way closer to the now captivated Scott and Hope.

"And So Tony made the condition that me, Nat and Bucky had to assess her, and she flew by the combat tests easily and now she has a helmet to mask her identity when she goes out to help Peter. It looks like a bike helmet."

"A helmet?" Scott grinned deviously, looking back at me with an evil smile. "You're motorcycle buddies with me and Hope now!" He said, alluding to the masks on their suits that were very reminiscent of motorcycle helmets. I slid my glare to Clint.

"What part of shut your mouth do you not understand?" I signed to him, annoyed. He snorted, and lifted his hands to reply:

"Considering we're signing right now? All of it."

"Turning off your hearing aids was a low move."

"All is fair in teasing the newbie."

"Then all should be fair in the newbie getting revenge. Prepare yourself, asshole."

"Okay, all I caught out of that was the asshole symbol," Sam spoke up, having shot his eyes from one of us to the other in a vain attempt to follow our conversation. "It's pretty self explanatory."

"Hebi, watch your language. Even in sign," Steve reprimanded, but his tone had no heat since he knew by then that I wouldn't listen. I hardly even registered him saying 'language' anymore.

"Oh yeah," I snapped my fingers suddenly, and Clint turned his hearing aids back on after seeing that my revenge would not be immediate. "Speaking of revenge," I leaned over, picking up a bag. Everyone eight sense ducked, leaving Scott wide open as I hurled the bag accurately at his face. He didn't dodge in time, leaving him with a face full of pudding. And then, just to poke more fun at him, I grinned up at the ceiling. "Hey FRIDAY, you still have that trap I asked you permission to set up, right?"

" _Of course Hebi. Want me to deploy?"_

"Obviously," I said, right as Scott stood up to run. "Too late, jerkwad."

A panel slid away from the ceiling, and a simple mechanical arm tipped over a farm of sugar ants right onto Scott's head.

"Ant-Man, indeed," I drawled as he ran around, yelling for Hope to get the ant cybernetic and command them off of him. Loving ants as he had grown to, he refused to kill them and was stuck with them crawling all over his pudding-coated face.

Satisfied, I went back to eating my shwarma.

"All in favor of not pissing off Hebi, say I," Sam said, shamelessly raising his hand. After a moment of hesitation, everyone except Natasha and Clint rose their hand.

"Too late," Clint said with a wince, then glared at me. "Bring it on, newbie. I'm not an idiot like Scott."

"That's debatable," I quipped, not even bothering to look up at him.

"So _that's_ where my missing robot arm went," Peter stated suddenly in belated realization.

Hope came back into the room, a device on her head and eyebrows furrowed. "Uh, Peter? My father would never let me give this to Stark to look over, but the cybernetic isn't getting the ants to respond.

I sipped my soda calmly. Tony's head slowly swiveled over to me.

"Hebi."

"Stark."

"I was working on spy ant robots…"

"Yes, you were."

"I had them hidden behind extreme security."

"Indeed you did."

"They aren't there any more, are they?"

"Did you think I'd kill real ants for him? No, the robots you were working on are all over Scott's face right now," Scott came back in with a soaking wet head suspiciously devoid of pudding or robotic ants. Tony turned his head to me again very slowly. I sipped my soda.

"Did you find out…"

"That you sent that video about me making my favorite avenger speech to Pepper, every Avenger who didn't already see it, _and_ my dad's best friends? And then remixed it into a song that you sent to my dad and somehow managed to set as his ringtone for me? Yes. I found out. And in case you didn't realize, it annoyed me very much."

"I need to go take a shower now," Scott bemoaned, making a face. "For some reason FRIDAY said the ants would only come off in toilet water, so I had to just stick my whole head in. I've learned my lesson, I will never upset Hebi again."

As everyone stared at me, I happily finished eating my shwarma.

"Didn't Peter warn you about me being a good hacker?"

—*—*—*—*—*

"You totally got Ned's help," Peter said to Hebi, walking her home since they decided Spider-Man was capable of doing that job. Now that Hebi knew he was Spider-Man, anyway. She put her hands behind her head, a decidedly pleased smile on her face.

"Of course. It would have taken me a solid two months to crack Tony's system, I'm not _that_ dedicated," She admitted. "It took Ned a week."

"How did you get him to agree to that?" The teen asked her, genuinely confused. "He is simultaneously in love with and terrified of my dad. Back when I first met Dad, he and I had a bit of an argument and I had Ned hack into the suit to remove it's tracker and an embarrassing protocol. He's still worried Dad's gonna punish him for it somehow. I haven't told him that the only thing he's planning is giving Ned a job."

Hebi snorted. Well, at least Bucky, Nat, and Clint knew that they didn't need an electronic tracker for Peter anymore. If he tried to pull that stunt again, she'd find him.

Unless she went with him. In that case, they would both be screwed because it would be _Matt_ who tracked them down.

She rather avoid his Disappointed Almost-Glare (he could never quite meet her eyes when he was angry. Something about his temper threw his eye contact accuracy off) if she ever tried to avoid him for something stupid. And if Peter was involved, it would likely be something stupid _and_ Spider-Man related. Which was about twelve times worse than normal stupid.

Hebi had seen videos of the crap Spider-Man pulled to catch a villain. A lot of it was reckless and somewhere on the borderline between idiotic and genius.

"Peter," The teenage girl tsked at him. "MJ is the only of you three that I don't have blackmail on yet. Considering she has supplied a good two thirds of said blackmail, I rather not tempt her towards revenge," she informed her friend. "But apparently the threat of embarrassing him by showing a certain video clip to Tony is more threatening than the thought of being caught hacking into said billionaire's moderately-secure cabinet—"

"Didn't he say it was protected by extreme security?" Peter asked, eyebrow raised. Hebi rolled her eyes.

"Of course he did, but that's irrelevant considering even his most slapdash security is still extreme for almost anyone. He actually labeled the cabinet the ant-cams were in 'moderately-secure,'" she confided in him, making sure to use the appropriate finger quotations. Peter nodded.

"Yeah, that makes sense," he agreed. Both of them were scanning their surroundings, considering sunset had just passed and they were entering Hell's Kitchen. Hebi was regretting letting Peter walk her home. Everything smelled and sounded and felt normal, which was to say she could smell all the same shady ass people as usual doing the same shady ass things. But she couldn't help but worry. She had an enemy that knew who she was, and here she was blatantly walking home with a friend.

Peter was good. He was strong. But she didn't want him to face her demons. She didn't want to risk losing him that way.

But there was no way to go back now. When they reached her and Matt's apartment complex, she rubbed the back of her neck. "Well," she said slowly. "This is it."

"Oh," he looked up at the building for a moment. "It's…"

"Not the shiniest thing in the world, yeah," she said, patting the brick wall lovingly. "But it's cozy."

"It's nostalgic," Peter finished, looking over at her. "The building I lived at before… you know, before being adopted, it wasn't too different from this. We lived over in Queens though, that's where I was raised," he informed me. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets.

"We?" Hebi asked before she could stop herself, tilting her head. "Fuck, forget I as—"

"My Aunt May and I," He interrupted me, his voice barely loud enough for the girl to pick up since she didn't have her hearing aids on. "She was the last family I had, you know? But two years ago, a drunk driver jumped the sidewalk and hit her as she was coming home from grocery shopping. The thing is, I was already… swinging around, you know, back then," he shifted uncomfortably. "I should have been there. I was halfway across town when I should have been there to stop it from happening. But I wasn't, and I lost the last of my blood family because of it."

Hebi was quiet, watching his face.

"Guess we're both a bit screwed, huh?" She joked, looking up at the sky. "You can't blame yourself for that, Pete. Nobody can save everyone, and the universe likes being a giant asshole whenever it can," she lowered her head, meeting his eyes squarely, looking past the vulnerability and pain there. "You are more than your mistakes. The fact that you haven't given up on getting close to people shows that. And…" she gave him a lopsided smile. "You didn't have to tell me. So, thanks."

Peter was blushing by then, and ducked his head in embarrassment. "Don't worry about it," he said shyly. "I don't know why I just blurted it out, really, but it just felt weird not to tell you. I know it's a little messed up, but it feels easier to talk about it when I know you've been through something similar."

Hebi blinked her stinging eyes, shaking her head. "I'm not gonna hug you," she blatantly quipped. Peter barked out a surprised laugh.

"I know," he said easily. "See you tomorrow, Hebi."

"Be careful on your way back, idiot," she called after him. He raised a hand to show that he heard, but kept on walking. Hebi watched until he got out of sight, and then entered the apartment building and walked up to her and Matt's door.

When she got in, she found Matt lounging on the couch with his fingertips paused over a sheet of Braille. Hebi sighed heavily, flopping down next to him.

"Well, That was… interesting," he mused out loud. Already knowing he had heard the whole conversation, Hebi just rubbed her hand down her face.

"Anyone who says he's a normal teenager needs a fucking reality check," She groused, leaning her head on Matt's shoulder. He grunted in agreement, sliding the paperwork away from him.

"What's wrong, Hebi?" He asked softly, able to hear the very slight irregularity to her breathing as clearly as she could see his red hair. Hebi sighed.

"I trust Peter," she admitted. Matt furrowed his brows.

"And that's… a bad thing?" He asked, confused.

"No, you don't get it! I've trusted him this whole time without even realizing it!" She complained, her hands tangling in her short hair. "I've been letting him touch my shoulder without reacting like I usually do, I've made subtle hints towards me not being the greatest person, I let him toss me up several stories high yesterday without even thinking twice!" She ranted hysterically, burying her face into his chest when he turned to embrace her. "It took me weeks to decide to let you touch me outside of a spar without reacting. It took me two months to get to _this,"_ she gestured to how she was letting him hug her. "And even then, it was only because you had been around me at my scariest and my lowest and never gave me up. Peter hasn't even seen an entirely genuine side of me yet, and I pat his shoulder without thinking or let him dramatically drape himself across me when he decides to be silly. I talked to Bucky, and we sorted a lot of it out, but…"

"But?"

"But is this okay?" She asked, her voice cracking. "Is it okay for me to get close to him like this? Close to _any of them?"_ She was starting to tremble. "I already have you. I trust you. I'm close to you. I don't know if I can handle anyone else holding an important spot in my life like that," she confided in the lawyer. "And I sure as hell don't deserve it. I don't even deserve you, or Foggy, or Karen. But I'm a selfish bitch and I let myself find comfort in your guys anyway. But I'm…"

"It's okay to be selfish every now and then," Matt whispered in perhaps the most hypocritical statement ever. Hebi made sure to glare at him for it. He hardly ever let himself be selfish, always forgetting his own safety or comfort and going out of his way to provide for others instead. He ignored the weight of her gaze on his face. "It is. I'm not good at it, but it's okay. And you _do_ deserve us. You deserve… shit, Hebi, you deserve a hell of a lot after everything you've been through," he breathed. "You deserve for all that shit to be made up for. I think Peter is good for you. He's a good friend, and you can trust him to be able to defend against you if that ever becomes necessary— yes, I know how you think you little idiot," he said fondly, touseling her hair. "Just take things slowly, okay? Get used to trusting him. It's good for you."

"Ice cream?" She asked tentatively after a long silence. Matt huffed a laugh.

"Just a little, I'm gonna start patrol in an hour or two."

"Good, I'm cashing in my second day this week," she spoke up, making Matt raise an eyebrow.

"Didn't you have enough action yesterday?" He asked dubiously, making Hebi snort.

"Yeah right," she responded flippantly. "You wish."

—*—*—*—*—*

**My sleep schedule was an absolute disaster here past few days and I have no idea why. Anyway, this one took me a bit longer to write. I don't know why… oh well. Also, I've been focusing on Peter a lot so I'm gonna give him a little bit of a break and try to have some more Matt scenes next chapter. This story is mostly about Hebi and her relationships with both Matt and Peter, after all, can't just neglect Dad Daredevil.**

**Thank you so much for reading, and see you next chapter~**


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: 
> 
> TREAD CAREFULLY IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING: 
> 
> suicide mention   
> Suicidal ideation   
> Emotions 
> 
> Yes this took me four days, I’m sorry. The third was my brother’s birthday. The rest was general laziness and slight writer’s block. Obviously not that bad though because it only took four days to power through, so. 
> 
> But here we are again, enjoy a sad and oddly paced chapter! :D

"How the hell are you going to balance two super—"

" _Vigilante,"_ Hebi corrected firmly, knowing she was very far from a hero and not wanting that term applied to her. It made her feel like a fraud. Hope, who had been the one talking, sighed but continued on determinedly.

"Fine, two _Vigilante_ personas? Hebi, Boa, and… do you even have a code name for the last one?"

The teen shrugged. "Tony says the codename from now on is Backup. Which is fine, considering he's shit at naming things and I could have ended up with something worse," she said easily. Hope pinched the bridge of her nose, and Scott was frowning. He had forgiven her for the prank the previous week, so the frown was pure concern.

"You know, should you even be keeping so many secrets from Peter? Isn't he your best friend or something?" The electrician asked, eyebrows furrowed and eyes intent on my face. "Coming up with a new vigilante persona just to hide your other one seems…"

"Shady?" Hank spoke up from his spot working on something at the dinner table. "Rude? Secretive? Paranoid? Like she thinks Peter doesn't deserve the truth?" He continued on relentlessly, glancing up to look at the teen, who was frowning at him by hasn't budged.

"Boa's enemies are not the same as Spider-man's" she argued.

"Okay, so you think he isn't competent, then?" Hank shot back, making the girl's eyebrows come down over her eyes.

"You guys don't know nearly as much about me as you think you do," she said, her voice cold. Hope and Scott stiffened at the tone that they had never heard from the girl before. It was like a verbal dagger, cutting through the air dangerously. Hank remained unmoved. "I like you, Hank. But don't push. I don't want Peter to know about me being Boa, because it will open up a pathway to my past that I'm not ready to go down with him. Or anyone."

"What could you have possibly gone through that he won't understand?" He asked, putting down the thing he was working on to give her his full attention. "You're only fifteen, that isn't a whole lot of time to go through the end of the world."

Hebi's gaze went red at the edges, and she stood up from the chair she was on. She had come over to just hang out, talk to some different people for a change. But it looked like that was a mistake.

"I've been through more than you have, old man," she hissed back at him, refusing to show how his simple words had wounded her. His whole body jerked back, eyes hurt before they settled back into a glare.

"You couldn't begin," he started, his voice trembling. "To know what losing my wife felt like. What I went through, you're forty years too young to make that claim, girl."

Hebi felt irrational anger stir up at that word. Girl? Like she was just _some kid?_ Like she was some other fifteen year old girl, worrying about Homecoming dresses and the test coming up and some cute boy, as if that was all that mattered? As if she hadn't suffered more than most people three times her age?

She wouldn't _let_ Hank just write her off like that.

"You don't get to pull the age card," she replied, her voice nearly a growl. "You don't get to do that. I _have_ been through more than you. I've _seen_ more than you, though I wish I was lying. I wish I was being a dramatic, asshole teenager right now. But you're the blind one in this scenario, Hank, not me," her hands were clenching in and out of fists by her sides. Her mind was running through old calculations.

She could have Hank down in five seconds. He was old, he couldn't move like he used to. It would be nothing to surge over and snap his neck, and to defend from Hope. She knew the older woman's fighting style like the back of her hand, by then. It would take a minute, but she could take her down too. By then Scott would have gotten in the suit, but that would only extend his life by—

Hebi forcibly halted her through process before it could go any further.

That wasn't her anymore.

It _wasn't._ And she wouldn't let a few abrasive words shoot her right back there.

Everyone was staring at her, tense and ready for a fight. It wasn't until then that Hebi realized her fingers had curled around the lamp that was to her right. Disgusted with herself, she let it go as if it was something nasty and picked up her backpack.

Her face was ashen.

"Hebi," that was Hope, trying to grab Hebi's arm. But the younger girl couldn't even stand the thought of physical contact right then, flinching away from the hand violently. Her breaths were coming in gasps by then, her eyes shot wide and frantic.

"I-I-I need to leave," she managed to stutter out, her feet barely making a sound against the wood floor panels as she stumbled to the door and forced her way out into fresh air.

Schooling her face into something neutral, Hebi walked with her head towards the ground. Her fingernails were biting into her palms even as she clutched her backpack straps tightly, the fabric easily giving way under her constricting strength without breaking like something brittle would have. The cool air, it was late in autumn and not getting any warmer, bit at her exposed skin. Normally she hated the weather closer to winter, having a hard time thermoregulating and all, but it came in handy just then to cool her temper. Each breeze was like a knife, but instead of making her bleed blood it forced her anger and adrenaline to flow out of her body.

All that was left behind was disgust. Thick, syrupy, uncomfortable self-loathing that coated her all over like a layer of mucus. It wasn't until she stepped into her and Matt's empty apartment that the tears came, accompanied by the full blunt realization of what had almost happened.

"Oh my god," she choked out, hands slapped over her mouth as she tottered her way to the couch with trembling legs. "Oh my god I _almost killed Hank_ ," her backpack slipped from her shoulders, landing on the wooden floor with a _thump_ that legitimately made her jump several feet into the air, muscles tensed. Upon realizing what it had been, a new flood of tears poured down her face and she crumpled onto the ground, her head and arms slumped over one of the couch's arms as she sobbed into the faux leather.

What was she thinking? She wasn't human enough for a normal life like this. Why was she fooling herself? She went and got friends like the idiot she was, thinking it was over. That if she tried hard enough, she could just leave her assassin self behind without consequence.

But she couldn't. She knew that now. She couldn't ignore anymore that her assassin side was a _part_ of her. A side she might not ever be able to shake. Hebi pulled herself up, running into the restroom just in time to vomit into the toilet. Why did she think it was a good idea to make friends?

It was just going to end in her standing over their corpses, just like before. Just like always.

Hebi Teal didn't keep friends alive. She didn't keep parents alive. She was better off alone, where the only person she could kill was herself and the world would only be safer if that route was taken anyway.

Her eyes found the window.

—*—*—*—*—*

Matt got home at six, expecting Hebi to be back already. Knowing she had decided to pay one of her mysterious friends a visit though, he figured she was just running late.

Until he realized her scent around the house was strangely fresh. As in, only an hour or two old. His eyebrows furrowed, walking circles around the room. Was that the scent of old vomit from the restroom? His nose wrinkled, but his heart sank.

Trying hard not to panic, Matt pulled out his phone and ordered the voice command (his new stark phone had an A.I. that never misunderstood his requests, and he was suddenly grateful for the expensive gift that had at first made him very uncomfortable to receive) to call phone rang, but Matt could hear it because it was on the kitchen counter. Abandoned. He grit his teeth, deciding instead to call Tony. The other line picked up almost immediately, the sounds of metal and power tools droning in the background even as the billionaire's voice spoke up amiably.

"Murdock, hello. Good to know you know how to use that phone after—"

"Is Hebi at the Tower?" The lawyer interrupted. He was never the best at keeping a poker face, or voice in this case, and his panic must have been obvious because almost all the background sounds came to a sudden halt.

"No…" Tony said slowly, voice serious and suddenly alert. "Peter said she was at school."

"Yeah, but…" Matt couldn't just say that he knew she had come home, but had left despite possibly being sick or something else. There were no strange scents in the house, Hebi had left on her own. "She's not Home. She said she went over to a friend's place, but she pulls the 'I was an influential homeless kid, I have friends everywhere' card when I try to figure out who she's talking about. I'm pretty sure it's just to get under my skin now, but…"

"But you don't know who she went to visit because of it," Tony finished, receiving only a worried groan in response. "Shit. I'll get Peter, she might have told him something."

Matt took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. He could track Hebi, he knew he could, but he needed to know what was going on. He needed a full picture, to know what he was likely to find at the end of her scent trail.

A moment passed before Peter's voice came over the phone. The worried tone to it suggested that he had been filled in by his dad.

"Mister Murdock?" He asked tentatively. "Um. Hebi said that she was going to hang out with Hank— Hank Pym— and Hope and Scott. Hope and Scott are Antman and there Wasp. I don't think they would do anything, but…"

"She left her phone here at home, so she came back before leaving again," the man told Peter, glaring sightlessly over at where the discarded piece of tech was. "Wait. The window's open," berating himself for not noticing the ever so slight crack that the window was slid open, he walked over. Hebi's scent went down. "I think she used he fire escape."

Peter sighed into the phone, making a slight staticky sound over the line. "Okay. Okay, here. I'll have Happy drive me over to you, okay Mister Murdock? We can go visit Hank together and see if they know where Hebi went."

Matt found himself nodding despite Peter not being in the room. "Okay," The lawyer agreed, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Peter."

"Hebi's my best friend, Mister Murdock," the teen replied solemnly. "I'd do anything to make sure she's okay."

—*—*—*—*—*

Matt and Peter were silent the whole ride to Hank's house, with Happy driving them since they knew about the oldest Pym's dislike of Starks. The teen kept his eyes glued on Hebi's dad, and wondered if that was how _his_ dad looked when he went out as Spider-Man and didn't respond to a call immediately. The lawyer, who had been unruffled and charming when he first met him, now had his red hair rumpled and messy from running his fingers through it too much. The man was tapping his foot, and couldn't really fail any distraction from looking out the window so he was just staring sightlessly ahead of him and worrying his lip between his teeth.

And what had happened with all of Peter's hero's so far happened again; he was disillusioned. Matthew Murdock was not just an untouchable lawyer with an unfailing moral compass, fighting a fight painfully similar to Spider-Man's but in the legal system. He was a man. A mortal man, whose daughter was missing, and who could be torn apart if hit at the right weak points.

It was obvious Hebi was one of those points.

Still, Matt was the first one out of the car when they got to the right house, and he barely seemed to remember to extend his cane in time before walking up to the door and banging on its wood.

Peter could barely catch up in time for the door to open. There stood Hope Van Dyne, looking tired and confused.

"Peter? And, who is this?"

"I'm Matthew Murdock, ma'am," he said, polite despite the rush to his voice. "My daughter, Hebi, visited today didn't she? She came back home but she left her phone behind and I have no idea where she went."

Hope's shoulders fell instantly, eyes wide. "Shit. Come in, I'll get you something to drink," she said, opening the door and letting them in. Matt's skin itches to just get answers and leave, what if Hebi needed him? But he had to follow the breadcrumbs. As tempting as it was to just take after her like a scent hound, he had to know what he was walking into. If she had chased after trouble, he'd need his suit and possibly backup. If she had just gone out on an errand and was late, he needed a beer to deal with the stress and embarrassment. If she ran away.

If she did that, he needed about a whole decade to add back onto his life, because the stress would take that much away. Maybe more.

"Hebi and my dad had an argument," Hope's eyes shot to Peter, and then back to Matt as she tried to figure out how to word it without betraying Hebi's trust. "He… we were all talking about Hebi becoming Spider-Man's emergency backup, and my father made a remark about her past."

"What?" Matt and Peter asked at the same time, in two very different tones. Peter sounded confused—what would Hebi's last have anything to do about it? But Matt's was pure anger. Hope rushed to explain.

"Hebi said that she didn't tell Peter something, and Hank said that she should always be open with her friends. She made a remark about us not knowing her as well as we thought, and it all devolved from there," her tone was even, but worry seeped into it as she spoke as efficiently as possible. "They started taking hits at each other, making vague remarks about who had a worse past without ever saying anything specific. And Hebi… she got mad," Hope stopped in the kitchen, and turned back to them.

Peter saw the hesitation in the older woman's eyes. Matt heard it in her heartbeat.

"Hebi grabbed a lamp. I don't think she even realized she did it," Hope's voice had gotten softer, and she shifted her weight nervously between her feet. "We thought she was going to attack us. We'd never seen her like that, not even during the times Scott or I had sparred with her. Then she just… snapped out of it. She seemed completely caught off guard, and immediately let go of the lamp. I…" Hope ran a hand down her face. "It looked like she was going into a panic attack. I tried to stop her from leaving, to work through her attack here until she was able to go home safely, but she ran before I could. By the time I got outside, she was halfway down the block, and all our cars are back in San Francisco."

That was when Hank came out, and blinked at the visitors.

"What's going on?" He asked, but nobody had time to answer before he was lifted up and slammed against a wall by none other than Matthew Murdock. Peter blinked, eyes wide, as he processed a _blind man_ doing something like that with little to no effort.

 _Must be the adrenaline_ , he thought. _He's so worried about Hebi he just ran towards the first vaguely familiar voice and bam._

Still, Peter wouldn't be getting on the lawyer's bad side anytime soon if he could help it. He never knew a blind man could be so intimidating.

"Hank Pym?"

"That's me," to his credit, the older man was mostly unruffled and stared back at the redhead pinning him against the wall with a mostly calm face.

"The next time you consider arguing with Hebi about who has had the harder life, let her win," he growled. "Because she's right. You're four times her age damn it, act like it," with a growl, Matt let go of Pym before Peter could move and coax him to do that very thing. The teenager in the room watched as Hebi's dad took a deep breath as a weak attempt to calm himself down. "I think I know where she went, now," he told them.

In reality, Hope's words had been the last piece of the puzzle. He knew what he was going into, and he _would_ need backup.

"Thank you, Peter," he said, smiling tiredly in his vague direction. "You're a good friend to Hebi. Please keep it that way, for her sake. She needs you more than she will ever admit. I promise I'll call Tony when I find her, so you don't have to worry okay?" the man told the boy solemnly, patting his shoulder as he left the house.

Once he got a few blocks away, Murdock pulled out his phone and called Foggy.

"Hey," Matt said as soon as his old friend picked up. "I'm gonna need you to buy a whole gallon of black cherry ice cream from the store. Hebi's gonna need her favorite, we have a lot of trauma to work through today. Could you pick up some sleeping pills while you're at it? I'll pay you back."

—*—*—*—*—*

While Matt was channeling his inner police dog tracing Hebi's streets through back alleys and fire escapes, Peter got back to the Tower and found that all the Avengers had been filled in by his dad. Strangely enough, Bucky, Natasha, and Clint were all in a corner talking to each other apart from everyone else. In most situation, that would be normal. The three former spies/assassins usually flocked together because they all could relate to one another in ways most of the others couldn't. But at that moment, Peter noticed that those three in particular seemed even more worried than everyone else.

"She should be fine," Sam spoke up, trying to stay casual despite the concern in his eyes. "That girl can whoop Wasp's ass, she can take care of herself. Probably went out to ship tea orders out or something and got stuck in line at the post office."

Peter watched as none of the three in the corner even pretended to give that idea the light of day.

Something was going on. The spider boy was not stupid. He could tell when things weren't adding up, when something was being kept from him. Hope had mentioned the argument with Hank taking place because of a disagreement over Hebi keeping a secret. From him.

That wasn't a shock. Hebi was a secretive person, and Peter respected that. MJ was, too. And Hebi had purposely gone out of her way to try and respect Peter's privacy regarding Spider-Man, so Peter wasn't in any rush to find out all of Hebi's secrets.

But with the three in the corner, two of them being the ones that did Hebi's background check?

Something really wasn't right.

They knew something about Hebi's past that Peter didn't, and it was telling them something that the rest of them didn't know. Peter had never wanted to march up to somebody and ask for an explanation so badly. This was one of the few instances where Peter was okay with being a bit intrusive with Hebi's privacy, as long as it meant getting her home safely. As long as it meant being able to _protect her_ better.

And this seemed like a pretty big thing.

Natasha caught him staring at them first, and her gaze snapping over to him caused the two men with him to also turn. They stood in silence as Peter marched over.

"What is it?" He demanded in a hiss, staring into Natasha's eyes. "What do you know? Where is Hebi?"

"I don't know where she is," Natasha admitted.

"But you know why she left, don't you?" He continued, not letting up. "All three of you," he was interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder. Bucky's flesh hand.

"Peter, no," the large man said gently, but his eyes were firm. "This isn't something where telling you is going to fix the issue. All it's going to do is make Hebi lose trust in all of us, and that's the last thing that needs to happen," he told the teenager. Peter glared at the ground, clenching his fists.

"But—"

"Hebi will tell your eventually, kid," Clint spoke up, patting Peter's back. "But it really isn't our place to say. If t makes you feel better, Nat and Bucky are going out to help look for her right now. No, you can't go. Not this time, Pete," Clint at least had the decency to look as apologetic as he sounded. "Hebi wouldn't want you to see her like that."

"Like what?"

After a silence, it was Natasha who softly said:

"Scared."

—*—*—*—*—*

Matt closed the heavy metal door. It had taken a lot of time to reach the roof of the nondescript skyscraper where Hebi's scent trail led, but he assumed that had been the point. The sun was long set, and there sat Hebi. She was at the very edge of the roof, only her legs hanging off so that nobody threw a fit about a jumper. She was laid on her side, which nearly gave Matt a heart attack when he registered that, and was staring out at the city.

Matt stop in place for a long time, not wanting to scare the girl when she was so close to the edge in more ways than one. When she let out a long shuddering sigh, he knew she had noticed him.

"Go away."

"Not a chance," he replied easily, walking up and sitting a few feet behind her. Close enough for her to feel his presence, but far enough not to crowd her. "I figured out that your mysterious friend who made the device for your glasses was Hank Pym."

"Fuck," she cursed softly. "Please tell me you didn't punch him," she asked, probably sounding casual to a normal person. Not to Matt. He could hear the slightly unsteady best of her heart, smell the salt in the air that told of far too many tears. He could hear the waver in her voice, the slight hoarseness that told of her probably having a sore throat the next day.

"I slammed him up against a wall, does that count?" He asked, purposely casual. He couldn't stare out at the sky or the city, so he just listened and felt. He listened to Hebi's too-shallow breaths, and felt the heat of artificial light on his skin. He heard the mumble of countless conversations below them, and the smell of hundreds of different foods. Usually it would be disorienting, annoying, but he let it all mix together into a weird mess of senses that was just The City. It was as close to gazing at the skyline as he could get, anyway. "His daughter made it sound like you were ready to do a little more than hitting, so why do you care if I punch him or not?"

Hebi chuckled humorlessly. "You know why," she accused without any heat to her words. He waited. She gulped, and he listened harder. "I don't deserve any of this," she squeaked out, her voice going hoarse. "I don't. I thought if I ran far enough, if I deflected hard enough, I could become a different person. But I _can't._ It doesn't matter how many people I save, I'm still a _dirty murderer,"_ Matt could smell new tears in the air. Hebi's breathing hitched; she was crying again.

"What have I told you about calling yourself that?" Matt asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"But I am!" Hebi shot up into a sitting position, nearly giving Matt a heart attack since she was still on the edge of the rooftop, but her balance didn't waver for a second. "I was so angry. He was saying things he didn't understand, and I got mad. And I, I don't know. What's that phrase from the movies? Your vision going red? It was like that. I was just overcome with this stupid, stupid rage, and I started thinking…" Matt stayed silent, letting Hebi work through her sobs and figure out what she wanted to say.

"I started thinking about the easiest way to kill everyone in the room," she finally choked out, and Matt felt cold. "I-I thought about how Hank was old and couldn't move like he u-used to, so he'd be down in two seconds. And th-that I was used to fighting Hope too well, so she'd be easy too," Hebi was a mess, speaking through tears and snot and sobs. "I imagined it. It would have been so _easy,_ Matt. I was so close. And then I realized I was holding the lamp, and that everyone looked so _scared._ They were ready for a fight, it was like I was a wild animal. And I… God, I'm so fucking _sick_ , aren't I?"

"You're healing," Matt argued softly, trying to scoot forward. Hebi tensed, and he stopped.

"I can't do this, Matt," Hebi said with a trembling voice. "I can't. I'll—I'll just black out and wake up with a corpse under me again. It—it might be you, or—or Hank, or _Peter_. God, if it was Peter I'd willingly hand myself to the Avengers and just kill myself in jail when they were done with me," she admitted, and Matt couldn't breath for a long moment.

He thought they had moved past the suicidal stuff.

Apparently not.

"You won't kill us, Hebi," Matt assured her passionately, but she just drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest. "You woke up in time, didn't you? If anyone can understand losing yourself to anger, it's Doctor Banner."

The unexpected Hulk joke made Hebi bark out a surprised laugh, immediately covering her mouth. Matt's lips tilted in a lopsided smirk.

"I'm a close second though," he said more seriously. "You've seen me, haven't you? Those last two guys who I put in comas. You were there."

She was. Hebi looked down at the ledge supporting her, biting the inside of her lip. "Yes," she said slowly. "But you always know when to stop, even when you're like that. Even when you're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and not Daredevil."

"They're the same person," Matt pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Hebi just looked over at him with a pitying expression that he couldn't see on her face.

"That's what _you_ think," she drawled blandly. "Me and the criminals who had to face you think differently. The Devil Of Hell's Kitchen is scarier than Daredevil," she looked back down at her feet. "But even he never kills."

"He comes close," Matt admitted softly. "It's only by luck that I have enough of a rein on him to keep that line from being crossed. And maybe your rein is a little frayed, but that's okay. We can repair it. The longer you go without letting yourself cross the line, the easier it will be to stop yourself like you did today. You didn't even throw the lamp, you didn't attack. You stopped yourself _before_ that."

"I'm not safe," she argued weakly. "Not to be around."

"I'm pretty sure I'd be a lot worse off without Boa having my back actually. Or Hebi. You know, that normal snarky girl who for some reason likes running a small business that keeps us from having to rely on the income of one tiny newborn law firm."

The former assassin let out a watery laugh, scrubbing at her face with her palms. "I a-always knew you just like m-me for my m-money," she joked back, hiccups making her stutter. Matt's smirk came back.

"Totally," he agreed with humor tinging his voice. "Although, you do make great tea, too."

"The true reason you k-keep me a-a-around," she agreed with fake solemnity.

"Get over here," Matt breathed softly, holding his arms open. A long second passed before Hebi threw herself into his arms, balling herself up and letting him hold her instead of daring to trust herself not to crush him. Not tonight, not when she was like that. She just let herself be held, let her tears fall into his criminally soft shirt.

For now, it was okay. Matt would help her get better. His grip tightened around her.

He _had_ to help her get better. If she regressed again, he didn't know if she'd be able to survive it without breaking.

—*—*—*—*—*

"Hey, bud," Tony's voice came from the other side of Peter's door, seconds after he billionaire had knocked on it. It was eight thirty at night, almost two hours since Matt had first called Tony with the news that Hebi wasn't home. "Murdock called. He found her, she's okay, they're at home now."

Peter's bedroom door creaked open, and he looked up at the man who adopted him. The lanky teen took a long breath, and let it loose in a relieved sigh. "That's good. Did he say why she left or where… where she was?"

Tony put a hand on Peter's shoulder, running his free hand over his forehead for a moment. "Pete, bud, he said that it was personal for Hebi. That the argument with Hank stirred up some bad memories, and Hebi needed air."

"She wasn't planning on coming back though, was she?"

Tony pauses, which was really all the answer Peter needed. But the former playboy spoke anyway; "If Murdock hadn't found her? No, I don't think so, Pete. He made it sound like she was really in a bad place."

And, really, who could blame the younger boy for sucking in a hurt gasp? Was Hebi really just going to leave that easily? After how close they had gotten?

"Let's pick her up tomorrow," Peter suggested randomly, looking up at Tony with fire in his eyes. His dad lifted an eyebrow.

"Pete, don't you think she needs time to deal with everything? I'm not sure she's going to go to school tomorrow."

"She will," Peter argued firmly. "She won't miss it. Hebi once told me that she's missed so much school from being homeless that she'd show up even with a knife in her gut," he admitted. Tony grimaced.

"I really hope she didn't mean that literally or from experience," he remarked dryly. "But fine. If you really want to, we can pick her up tomorrow and take her school. Should I call Matt or will you?"

"Nope," Peter crosses his arms. "We'll surprise her. She deserves at least that much for worrying the hell out of us."

"Language," Tony corrected automatically, but sighed. "Okay. Be ready to go earlier than usual, then, if we have to make a pit stop in Hell's Kitchen before taking you to school."

The next morning, the two arrived outside Hebi's apartment building in a car that was basically a giant middle finger to the wealth of the entire neighborhood. Peter chafed at bringing an expensive car into a neighborhood like that, knowing it was stupid, but Tony didn't care. After all, it wasn't just anyone's car— if anyone tried to take it, they'd get their due from the security system.

Stark straightened his suit habitually as they walked up to the proper door, and stopped short a few doors away at the sound of slightly raised voices.

"You can't just treat me like a kid, damn it!" That was Hebi. Matt's all too-patient voice came just a second later.

"This isn't about your age or your ability to defend yourself. You know that. But what happened last night can't happen again, you know that right?"

"I was fine."

"Hebi," Matt's voice grew stern. "I know I can't actually _see_ you, but do you have any idea how much it scared me to find you sitting at the edge of a skyscraper?"

Peter and Tony stiffened. They hadn't been told _that._

"... I'm fine, Matt, honestly," Hebi's voice was gentler, apologetic. "I'm not suicidal."

"I thought you knew better than to try lying to me," the lawyer's voice sounded almost… disappointed. There was a tense silence, in which Tony and Peter glances at each other and contemplated turning around a leaving right then. Too bad they were both too nosy for their own good.

"I'm not _that_ suicidal anymore," Hebi amended. "I'm trying. I don't plan on dying or killing myself anytime soon, Matt. I promise. I have too many idiots to keep alive. You, Peter, MJ, Ned, Foggy, Karen. I have my hands full."

Matt huffed. "But you can't fly. You aren't Spider-man, you don't have webs or wings or a parachute. You can't just let your legs swing over the edge of a skyscraper because what happens if you fall? On purpose or otherwise?"

"I won't," and hell, if Hebi's tone wasn't one of absolute surety then Peter didn't know what was. "But if it makes you feel better, I won't go any higher than our fire escape for a while unless necessary. Okay? Now, about school."

"You should go," Matt said, making Tony raise both brows out in the hallway. He would have made Peter stay home after a night as emotionally taxing as what Hebi had had, what was Murdock thinking? "You can't avoid Peter forever."

"But, Matt," Hebi sounded tired all of a sudden. "I'm not… what if I..?"

"You won't hurt him. You had a setback yesterday, that's all. Regression doesn't suddenly make you a villain. It doesn't make you evil."

"I almost hit _Hank_ with a _lamp,_ " Hebi sounded distressed. "Matt, Scott, Hope, and Hank aren't the best fighters in the Avengers. They utilize their brains and their suits. If I had actually lost myself for even a second longer—"

"You would have stopped yourself," Matt said, taking his turn to sound absolutely sure of himself. "You don't have to fight for your life anymore. You're safe. Nobody can blame you for thinking about combat first and friendship second, but we're gonna work on that. Nobody can expect you to be better after just a couple months. But you won't heal if you don't let yourself go out and be a normal kid."

Hebi sighed. "You suck," she hissed, but it didn't have any heat to it and it sounded strangely off topic. Tony and Peter took that as their cue, and walked up to knock on the door.

The way Hebi opened it almost immediately made them think that maybe she knew they were listening the whole time, except that was impossible. Wasn't it?

"Stark, Peter," she said, blinking at them. "Uh. What's up?"

"I was worried!" Peter didn't bother pretending to be unaffected. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth was set in a frown. "New rule. You aren't allowed to leave."

"I'm sorry, what?" Hebi asked, and Peter hadn't seen her so confused since that time she asked what Legos were. Some of his anger drained away st that, and his glare softened.

"You. You are not allowed to run away like that. I'm your friend, aren't I? And Ned, and MJ? Are we really worthless enough for you to just leave behind without a second thought?"

Hebi's face went ashen in a way Peter had never seen before.

"No!" She refuted immediately. "Fuck, no! That's not it at all!"

"Then don't leave."

Hebi stares into Peter's eyes for a long second, and then the fight seemed to drain out of her along with a long sigh. She quirked a weak smile up at him.

"I'll do my best, brat," she replied. "You here to give me a ride or something?"

"Yup, brought a car I like too so let's get going before someone tries to take it and I have to peel them off the pavement," Tony quipped. Hebi gave him a grateful grin for going along with her subject change.

"Great, I'll be right back. And the first samples of the merch I ordered came in, since you're here will you give some to everyone Tony?" She asked, raising her voice slightly as she went in to grab her bag.

"Sure, kid," the man replied easily, patting Peter's shoulder to let him know he did good. Peter preened.

Hebi came back out a minute later, holding a thermos that leaked steam. It was black, holding the dark purple logo of her business— a purple witch hat with black stars, and the stylized purple words: WickedTea right under it. It was a really good quality thermos, too.

Hebi handed a smaller fabric bag to Tony, smiling. "There's a few hats, shirts, and thermoses in there. There should be enough to go around, but if anyone fights over anything tell me okay?"

The billionaire couldn't help but laugh at that, shooting the teen a smirk.

"Tell you what, if that happens I'll just send you the video of it to do with as you please."

"Deal."

Peter watched as Hebi slowly thawed during the ride to school.

Maybe everything would be okay. He could only hope.

— ***—*—*—*—***

**Feel free to give me idea for scenarios you want to see too, if you have any. I might not accept every idea, but I would really appreciate the help. Who knows, your suggestions might get me through a writer's block too.**

**As always, thank you so much for reading and see you next chapter~**


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> Nothing too bad.  
> Discussion about suicide and suicide ideation, I tried to go light on it this time around though. 
> 
> Also, graphic depictions of blood. Don’t worry, nobody gets injured but blood is talked about in depth because Science.
> 
> Obscene usage of fake and/or only mildly-researched science. 
> 
> And Peter casually downplays his own trauma. It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kinda thing, but I just wanted to state that for the record. It will come up again later. 
> 
> Mostly fluffy comfort.

"Are you okay?" Ned asked, making me look up from me and Peter's work. Our chemistry project was due at the end of the week, so we were just finishing up the last mechanical pieces in class before putting all our prepared stuff together at his place. Peter had already asked me the same question after picking me up that morning, and after the whole almost-killing-Hank-and-running-away thing that happened the previous day? I didn't blame him.

The whole class was relaxed, working on their individual projects and chatting as they did. Considering there was nothing keeping me from replying in that case, I just sighed.

"I'm fine, Ned, why?"

"You've been quiet all day," he said without looking up as he and MJ worked together on their own project. We had pushed our lab tables together so we could work and talk at the same time. I rubbed the back of my neck, watching Peter's hands carefully as he showed me how to connect the pieces of our device without talking. Despite his eyes remaining firmly on our project, I knew he was listening.

"Rough day yesterday." I said dismissively. "I'm just tired, that's all."

I caught Peter looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and shook my head slightly. I didn't want to talk about it with MJ or Ned. Or anyone really, but I knew Peter wouldn't accept _that._ Peter sighed a little under his breath, but went back to silently showing me how the mechanical parts connected.

"What was that?" MJ asked, eyes moving between us as she put down the tool she was working with. Her lip twisted up slightly in one corner. "Were you guys seriously communicating silently?"

"Ned hasn't gotten a handle on that yet, so I had to pick up the slack," I quipped, making Peter snort. Ned stuck his tongue out at me, and something in me relaxed a little. This was normal, it was good.

"Uh huh," MJ still hadn't lost her smirk. "Is that all?" I took her challenge, grinning and raising both eyebrows.

"I can technically communicate silently with anyone that knows sign," I signed, and even though MJ didn't speak sign language she got my point and snorted. Peter, who had snapped to attention the moment I had risen my hands, outright laughed. He translated for Ned, who had looked confused.

"I hope you guys are working more than you're talking," the warning voice of the teacher remarked, making us duck our heads and continue working. Except MJ, who just shot the teacher a thumbs up and a grin before going back to helping Ned.

"There," Peter said with a grin. "The artificial heart is done. How are you doing, Hebi?"

I looked down at where I had been absently molding chicken wire, trimming it and getting rid of any sharp edges. "Mold is good," I assured him. "And I snapped the pieces of our stand together earlier," I patted the metal object.

"Awesome!" My friend grinned widely at me, and I couldn't help but reciprocate. "Now all we have to do is fit our skin grafts on the mold, put all the inorganic pieces together, and fill it up with blood."

"Do you think the blood vessels will survive?" I asked, frowning. Keeping the skin alive on the mold was going to be tricky. We already had the artificial heart to pump blood through the blood vessels and under the skin to keep it warm, but it was all artificial and we had no idea if it would work. Peter tilted his head, and then looked back at me. He reached out a hand to lay it on my shoulder, but redirected it to the desk when he saw me tense.

"Don't worry, Hebi," he said to deflect from the awkwardness of the aborted motion. "Even if it doesn't, we can just pump the blood through a series of glass tubing instead to show the reaction. It won't be as cool, but it will work."

I nodded, grinning down at our materials. Yeah, either way we had a cool presentation to give.

"Oh yeah!" I sat up straight in my seat at a sudden thought. "I almost forgot! The package from the veterinary hospital arrived this morning. They got us rattlesnake and black widow venom, three vials of each. Did your dad clear it with the school for us to bring it?"

Peter nodded, getting excited all over again. "Yup! We need a responsible adult to bring it for us, but as long as a teacher monitors us the whole time we can use it in our presentation. Okay, so let me show you how to flush the system out between demonstrations…"

I watched as he both pointed to parts of the mechanical heart and drew diagrams in a notebook to show me how the flushing process would work and look. I nodded, this part coming easier than the fine points of mechanics.

"Awesome. And I'll do the measurements of the water after each flush to make sure the second batch of blood isn't contaminated," I ran by him. "Think you can stall for time so nobody gets bored?" Peter shrugged.

"If you give me an idea of what to say so I don't stutter too much," he compromised. I nodded with a smirk.

"Get some public speaking tips from your dad. Or don't, actually, if I remember how his most memorable speech was really just three words," Peter snorted, and I tilted my head in thought. "You can get a crash course from _my_ dad instead. He has to convince people to agree with him every day, I'm pretty sure he can give you tips on how to keep crowds focused on you."

"It's a school project, not a state competition," Ned interrupted us, looking like he was simultaneously disappointed in us and only half a step away from bursting into laughter. Peter and I shared a look, then looked back at Ned with synchronized shrugs.

"Who knows? We might choose to enter this in a contest," Peter started.

"We might as well get our act together now just in case," I finished with a decisive nod. MJ rolled her eyes, and Ned shook his head.

"They're a lost cause, aren't they?" Ned asked with dismay. MJ raised an eyebrow at him.

"Like they ever _weren't?_ "

"Yeah, good point."

It wasn't until after school that Peter pulled me aside, making an excuse to Ned and MJ that he was gonna walk me part of the way home. I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"So, uh," Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you wanna talk about what happened last night? I know I already kinda yelled at you this morning, but… You really worried me. And Bucky, Aunt Nat, and Uncle Clint were all acting weird. They told me they couldn't tell me anything because then you wouldn't trust us, which I totally get because you don't have to tell me anything you aren't ready to—"

"Peter, _breathe,"_ I interrupted, frowning. I was used to his rambling, but mixed with his concern and need to explain himself he had made himself breathless. He took a breath, looking at me apologetically.

"Just… are you really okay? Tony and I overheard some of you and your dad's talk this morning and I'm _still_ worried about you because of it. I want to help, if I can. However I can."

I looked into Peter's eyes, knowing I was losing this battle of wills between us. I knew he had overheard some of me and Matt's discussion. The jerk had probably known they were there the whole time, while I had been too focused on him to notice until he actually mentioned Spider-Man. Maybe that was why he phrased certain things so that my secrets weren't busted.

He _wanted_ them to overhear, probably anticipating something very similar to what was happening with Peter right that moment.

I sighed, running a hand through my bangs. "I figured you had heard," I admitted. "We need to finish our science projects anyway, so is it okay if I come over? I can explain some things while we're there."

"Are you allowed to?" Peter asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "It sounded like you were being punished."

"Punished?" I asked, blinking as I was slightly caught off guard. "No. Matt was mad, but he wouldn't punish me for that. Not like you are thinking, anyway. Keeping me at home would be counterintuitive," I shifted my weight on my feet. "No, he just gave me a new rule. I have to tell him _exactly_ who I'm visiting, call or text when I get there, and let him know when I plan to get home. No more running around town with vague notions of where I'm going or when I'll be back," I told my friend. "I'm used to nobody having that kind of authority over me, or not caring enough about me to make that sort of rule, so I was a little mad at first. That's all."

Something I couldn't quite identify swept over Peter's face as he listened to me, but was replaced by relief at the end when everything sunk in.

"Oh, that's good," he breathed happily. "It's okay with me. I'll call my dad while you call yours?"

"Deal."

Five minutes later, we were climbing into the back of a sleek black car that Happy was driving. Both of our parents were asked and approved of the visit, so all that was left to deal with was a Happy that was slightly annoyed at being made to wait.

But he was always a little grumpy, so Peter and I just ignored it. We made a quick stop at me and Matt's apartment so I could grab the venom before making it the rest of the way to the Tower.

"Hey, there she is!" Clint greeted as soon as Peter and I entered the common room. I glanced up at him, seeing him and the other two in charge of training me sitting around the kitchen counter. I rode an eyebrow, and could have sworn I saw Clint's shoulders relax a bit once he saw me.

Nah, there was no way. I was still too dangerous for him to care that much about me.

I gave them a weak smile and a little wave.

"What'dya got there?" Bucky asked, nodding to the reinforced box that the venom was in. I adjusted the box's strap on my shoulder, and gently patted it with one hand.

"Venom for me and Pete's chemistry project," I answered smoothly. Their eyebrows raised. "Western Diamondback rattlesnake, and black widow. As promised, in tribute to the woman who kicks my ass every Sunday now," I extended one arm in a slightly dramatic bow, earning a snort and chuckle from Peter for my troubles. "I'll leave it here while Pete and I get everything ready for our trial runs."

"You know what Hebi was telling me earlier today?" Peter asked, bouncing on his heels as I set the box down on the counter between the three ex-assassins. I knew at least two of them wouldn't trust me to take it into the room alone with Peter, so it was best to just show my goodwill and leave it with them for the time being. "She said that our test would prove you have a heart, Aunt Nat!"

"What?" The redhead asked, and I turned to give Peter a betrayed look.

"You said you wouldn't tell her!"

Peter ignored me.

"Because hardly any black widow bites are actually deadly," My traitor of a best friend said with a large smile. "In fact, is the past year _none_ of the Black Widow bites reported were fatal. It won't have very many visual effects on the model we're doing for class, so in a way it's like saying you're not bad like a lot of people started thinking after your data dump."

The dump that exposed Natasha's former career as spy and assassin for the world to goggle and gasp at.

I never really liked how people started questioning how much of a hero she was after that dump.

I turned away resolutely from the three so that I didn't see Natasha's reaction (if she even _had_ a visible one to see in the first place), and walked down to Peter's room.

"I'm gonna drop my stuff off. Do you need me to get anything?"

Peter shook his head. "Just the glass stuff on my desk that we worked on last time."

—*—*—*—*—*

Hebi nodded at Peter, and walked off to set her backpack down and ran what he had asked for. That left him alone with the three who knew more about Hebi than he clearly did.

"She's been acting like nothing happened yesterday unless you bring it up," he told them softly, frowning. All three of them were focused on him as the teen leaned over the counter towards them. "But… Me and Tony overheard some really scary things she was talking about with her dad this morning, and I'm worried about her. Can you guys talk to her later, before she leaves?"

Bucky, Clint, and Nat shared a glance.

"What kind of things?" Nat asked quietly, but Peter shook his head.

"Maybe she'll tell you, but it feels wrong to say it without her permission. I don't know what it has to do with her past, but… I think she was about to do something horrible last night if Mister Murdock hadn't found her first."

They traded a glance again, and Bucky nodded.

"We'll see if we can catch her before she leaves, Pete. Now go work on your project."

The young vigilante gave them a relieved smile, and nodded before jogging off after Hebi. Once he was gone, the three Avengers were left alone with the box of venom. Clint ran a hand through his hair.

"She still thinks we don't trust her, doesn't she?"

"Without a doubt," Natasha confirmed. "And she isn't really _wrong._ "

"But she's not right, either," Bucky agreed. "We'll go over it during that talk."

The other two nodded.

—*—*—*—*—*

Peter and Hebi went through the basic planning stages without bringing up the elephant in the room at all. It wasn't until they got down into one of the chemistry labs with everything set up in front of them for assembly that Hebi sighed and let her shoulders drop.

Recognizing the signs of someone letting their walls down, Peter instantly shot his head up to give her his full attention. Trying to figure out what to say first, the girl twirled a longer section of her bangs with two fingers for a moment. When she let go, it popped free of her fingers in a slight curl. Peter tried to focus on that instead of futilely trying to predict what she was going to say.

"First off, yes the argument with Hank and I started because I'm keeping a secret from you," the teen started, making sure to keep eye contact with Peter. "First off, that was really hypocritical of him to bring up when he hid the whole Ant-Man and Wasp thing from Hope even after what happened with his wife, but that's beside the point. I don't think he understands, he can't really relate to my reasoning," she ran a hand over her forehead. "I can't… I don't want to tell you yet, if I'm honest. But it isn't because of lack of trust or any other bullshit Hank tried to spout. I trust you, okay? I need you to know that."

Peter nodded, offering her a small but bright smile. "I get it. It's like the Spider-Man thing, right? Except, maybe not so dangerous. Sometimes it's just hard to tell people things, it's fine."

Hebi let out a breathy chuckle, her eyes shining with gratefulness. "Not like I let you vault me up to the eighth floor of a burning building without a second thought or anything," she quipped. The two of them chuckled at that for a moment before getting back on track. "So. Yes, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky know. Widow and Hawkbutt found out from their background check on me, and Bucky had to be clued in once we started training together. I'm," the young woman's lips twisted into something halfway between a smirk and a sneer, though it was obviously directed at herself. "I'm really fucked up, Pete," she admitted softly. "It's bad. Everything you know about me is like the quick notes, just a brief overview of the biggest things that happened. Bucky… Bucky helps the most. Nat and Clint are cool too, it helps me relax when they're there. Even if Natasha still treats me like a landmine," she grinned softly at the last part she said.

"I'm good with screwed up," Peter said, immediately reddening and backtracking when Hebi looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "That's not—that came out wrong. I meant that it's okay to not be okay, but you shouldn't refer to yourself as 'screwed up,' that's not healthy. But, like, all the Avengers have been through some pretty traumatic stuff. They all have their own triggers and issues, and that's fine. They're still my family, you know?" Peter started nervously fiddling with a slender glass tube as if it was a pencil, twirling it through his fingers. "And I'm not the picture of perfect mental health, either. I have some… minor issues I don't like to think about. But I can handle that. Not being okay. I know how to deal with it," he looked up from the glass tube to meet her eyes despite the pink still tinging his cheeks. "I can help with 'not okay.' But I can't help you if you don't give me something to work with. You can be vague, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but," he set the tube down to lean over the lab table towards her a bit. He needed her to understand. "But I want to help. You're my friend, Hebi, and I want to _be able_ to help you."

The former child assassin looked into his eyes, registered the sincerity there, and melted a little. But the voice still repeated in her head:

_You're dangerous. You're deadly. You're selfish. You'll kill him. All of them. You'll break their necks and choke their throats and watch the blood vessels in their eyes pop._

_Peter will take back everything he just said if he knew he was talking to a dirty murderer._

Hebi gripped the edge of the table, grateful the metal was strong enough to hold up against a portion of her strength without trouble. Still, she erred on the side of caution and watched how much strength she put into her fingers.

 _I'm getting better_ , she thought furiously. _I won't be who they made me into. Not anymore. Not ever again._

"You heard a bit of it," she said out loud, still looking down at her fingers as they turned white against the steel grey of their workplace. "There was a time where survival was the most important thing, the only thing worth worrying about, but I don't like what that life _made me._ I didn't like myself. I _still_ don't like that part of me," she raised her head to look into Peter's eyes, and all her friend could think about was how someone without bags under their eyes could look so profoundly _exhausted._ "My argument with Hank stirred up a bit of bad memories, and bad feelings. I was reminded of who I am, who I was," she scrubbed at her forehead with one hand. "I was scared that I would never change. That that ugly side of me will never go away. So yes, I walked up to the top of a skyscraper and just sat at the edge without any parachute or webs or wings or anything to save me if I fell," she met his eyes again for a split second before looking away. "In the end I guess I'd rather die than hurt anyone innocent now, let alone one of my _friends._ "

Peter blinked. For a second, he looked down at his own hands and then back up at his friend. He took in the sorrow in her hazel eyes, the slight slump to her shoulders, the way her left hand had never stopped clutching the table. And he understood. Not exactly what happened, not what she was keeping from him, but the biggest thing she was telling him right then? He understood.

"You know, I can stop a three thousand pound car going forty miles an hour in less than two seconds," he said softly, watching her expression as it clouded with confusion. "With my bare hands. I can lift over twelve tons. But do you know who Spider-Man fights most of the time? Thugs. Muggers. Corner store robbers, would-be rapists. Only a few of the criminals I fight are ever enhanced, but I have enough physical strength to kill a grown man with one hand," he looked down at his palm. "If I judge the strength behind just one of my punches or kicks wrong, I could kill. Thankfully I already knew that before I started this whole vigilante thing, or else I'd have some bigger issues to deal with mentally," he grinned lopsidedly up at her even though his eyes remained serious. She was focused by then, all her attention on him as the confusion was cleared away word by word.

"I get it," Peter told her. "Being afraid of hurting people. I still get a little nervous every time I spar with my family. If I lose control for even a second…" he clenched his hands into fists at the thought. "I put a lot of effort into controlling my strength because of it. Uncle Steve says he forgets about my super strength sometimes, because I don't accidentally crush things when I'm mad like him or Uncle Bucky do every now and then. But struggling with something doesn't make you bad," he smiled at her softly. "It's okay to be scared. If you can spar with Aunt Nat and Uncle Clint well enough for them to clear you to be a vigilante almost immediately, then you've got to already be good enough of a fighter for your body to be a weapon. But you are in control of your body, not the other way around. Killing yourself isn't a solution," his gaze softened even further, something Hebi hadn't thought possible. "It's just turning that violence you're trying to control _on yourself."_

Hebi looked down, starting to piece together some of the pieces of their project to hide the way his words affected her.

"If you need someone to talk to about it, I'm here. I know I talk a lot, but I think I'm a pretty good listener too."

Hebi smiled at that, feeling her eyes sting. She wouldn't cry, but her eyes were still a little wetter than usual.

"Thanks, Pete. I promise, I'm going to try my hardest not to give those suicide thoughts too much attention. It won't happen overnight, but I'll fight it."

Peter nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. "Let's do this; on a scale from one to ten you'll tell me how broken or close to hurting yourself you are. One is you feeling really good, a ten is you climbing a skyscraper again. We'll call it your Glass Scale, to record how close to breaking you are. Okay?"

Hebi looked up and rose an eyebrow at him. "And what will that do, exactly?"

Peter grinned. "If it's anything above a seven, I'll force you to eat ice cream and listen to me tell you how awesome you are," he said cheerfully, making Hebi laugh. "Seriously though, anything above a seven means I'll help however I can to bring that number down again. Even if it means calling your dad and letting him take over. We'll also have a Hulk Scale. One to ten on how angry you are."

Hebi snorted. "Doctor Banner would be so annoyed if he knew about that scale," she said, sounding the least burdened she had all day. Peter laughed.

"But the Hulk would be flattered!"

"Okay, enough gross feeling talk," Hebi said with a roll of her eyes. "Let's work on our project before I break into hives."

"God, you sound like Dad," Peter complained even though he was still smiling. He didn't say anything else though, instead bending over the table to help Hebi assemble the glass walls and tubing, metal, and chicken wire mold together.

Hebi held the glass pieces in place as Peter welded them with a tiny torch— the glass tubes were small, so the tool had to match. The chicken wire mold was missing one side, where the grafted skin would end and meet the glass wall. It would allow a cross-section view for the audience, but Peter had to weld two tiny glass tubes to the glass wall. The tubes would feed the blood in the mold through them and back into the artificial heart so that there were no spills, and instead a continual cycle of blood would be formed.

Once the glass parts were welded together, they welded any metal parts needed together, and attached the metal to the glass with a strong adhesive.

"This is going to be air and watertight, right?" Hebi asked, not recognizing the adhesive since the bottle was unlabeled except for a scrawling of what it was and the major components in it in messy handwriting. Peter beamed up at her.

"Of course," he said with a slight bow of his head since he was busy helping her hold the pieces they were gluing together. "I made this formula myself. I've been using it for months now, it will work wonders."

His words made his friend's eyes widen with realization. "Shit! I totally forgot that you being Spider-Man means the webs are _yours!"_ She badly wanted to point at him, but they had moved on to glue more metal and glass together. "You made it, right? When I was doing my research on you out of envy for that damn formula, I figured you must have made it yourself. Videos of you using it date back before Iron Man showed up and upgraded you."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "You looked that far? How did you not figure out who I was? As Dad never forgets to remind me, I was shit at hiding my secret identity back then."

"You still are," Hebi deadpanned. "Let's just say it's because I respected your identity."

"...Dad encrypted any videos or information that might give me away, didn't he?"

"The guy is fucking meticulous," Hebi agreed instantly. "Couldn't find a damn thing that wasn't hidden behind top level firewalls I couldn't crack."

Peter pouted. "So you _didn't_ respect my identity," he teased, making her roll her eyes.

"I wanted to march to Spider-Man's door and demand the formula. Well, I actually wanted to sneak through his window and _steal_ it, but the first one makes me sound more law-abiding. I respected Peter Parker's privacy, Spider-Man didn't mean much of anything to me until I found out he was you."

The brunette blinked wide eyes, stunned speechless for a moment. If Hebi hadn't been too busy assembling their project, she would have felt smug at achieving the near-impossible.

"I don't know whether to feel insulted or deeply touched," the boy admitted after a long moment of open-mouthed gaping.

"I always respected you as a vigilante," Hebi said with a shrug. "But I didn't have any real opinion on you past that. Like, I would have helped if I saw you in mortal danger but I wouldn't have really thought twice about punching you if you got in my way, you know?" She smiled as most of their project was set up, and got out the wire mold to fit it inside. Peter held it in place with tweezers for her while she welded the wire in place to the two small metal rods for just that purpose. "Peter Parker was the guy who didn't hesitate to become my friend. He was the 'you' that mattered from the beginning. I didn't know Spider-Man. Until I did," she grinned up at him.

Peter was blushing, which amused Hebi and made her tilt her head. "What? I'm just saying the truth," she admitted, slight confusion in her voice.

Peter mentally jotted down that, despite her many strengths, Hebi was emotionally oblivious as his face got even redder.

"I'll get the blood!" He squeaked, running over to the mini fridge that kept a few bags of blood that Bruce had let them have. Since the Avengers got badly wounded on a regular basis, blood bags were a constant in the Tower's med bay, and they wouldn't miss a few. All normal, of course. Peter had to donate blood whenever possible for his own emergency supply since his blood was slightly radioactive and his body wouldn't accept normal blood, just like most Enhanced in the building. Steve and Bucky were compatible, which made things slightly easier, and most other people were normal as far as blood went. Still, they couldn't use radioactive blood—as cool as that would have been. For one, it could react to the venom in a weird way they wouldn't be able to explain in class. For two, it would expose at least Peter's life in Avenger's Tower if not his identity as a whole.

So, normal blood.

Peter came back to Hebi with a one-pint bag in hand, and they worked in focused silence as they transferred the blood into their artificial heart. Hebi had already fitted their skin graft onto the mold, and fit the edges into the prepared grooves of glass that would catch any blood that wanted to spill. To make sure it stayed waterproof, she went around the outside edges of skin with a skin-safe liquid plastic to seal any cracks that they couldn't see. She had also run the first flushing sequence to sterilize the section the blood would go into, and taken the first water readings to make sure it was good to go.

Peter had stayed in front of the fridge for several minutes to cool down his blushing face, if his long stalling time hadn't already been made apparent.

Once the blood was in the heart, they cleaned up their work space, sealed the whole device up, and started the pumping sequence. Hebi beamed in pride as they saw the blood pump like it would in a normal body. From any angle they wanted, they could watch through the glass as the skin gently pulsed in an imitation of life, the blood vessels bright red as they filled with blood and oxygen for the first time since the teens collected it from the lab it had been grown in for their project. The Asian squealed in delight, giving her best friend a high-five as they watched their successful closed-circuit biology system work flawlessly.

"No leaks! No contamination! The skin is healthy and alive, it's working!" Peter said happily. Hebi was bouncing up and down, not noticing her friend watching her closely out of the corner of his eye. He had never seen her so purely _happy,_ so he soaked it in while he could. The bad day she had had the previous night just made him even more determined to watch her good moments as often as he could.

"Okay, ready for the reaction tests?" Hebi asked, eyes glinting with excitement. Peter couldn't help but smile widely, chest filling with that same excitement after seeing how their project affected Hebi.

"Heck yeah!" He agreed enthusiastically. "Rock paper scissors for who gets to test the rattlesnake venom?" He asked, knowing that that reaction would be the coolest and therefore testing it was the position of honor in their little team. The glint in the girl's eyes changed from excitement to challenge, and her grin matched it.

"You are _so_ on," she rose her fist up in the starting position, and she and Peter began the first round. They swung their fists out, and—

Hebi chose scissors, Peter chose rock.

"Best two out of three!" Hebi shouted immediately, making Peter laugh. She glared at him playfully. "You know that it's always two out of three when battling for something!"

Peter held his hands up in surrender, still chucking. "Sure, whatever," he agreed easily. "I'll just win again anyway, you can't beat Spider-Man," he teased. Hebi narrowed her eyes.

"Oh really? Then get ready for round two, Mister High-and-mighty."

In the end, Peter actually did win. Hebi had tied them in the second round, but the boy had pulled forward again in the last.

"Dang it," Hebi groused, dramatically leaning over the table in defeat. "How could I have lost? Is it because it requires no strategy and Peter is just better than me at not thinking?"

"Hey!" Peter cried indignantly through his laughter at her melodrama. "You still can't make a simple single-operation robotic arm, you don't get to make digs at me yet!" He teased right back. Hebi stuck her tongue out at him. Once neither of them were laughing anymore, Hebi went over and opened the large padded box. Inside, nestled carefully in six perfectly-fitted holes in a stiff foam block, were six glass vials. Each was carefully labeled. There were gloves and syringes also in the box. Peter and Hebi both slipped on the gloves and a pair of safety goggles, and Peter took out one vial of rattlesnake venom first.

They were working with a lot more than what was needed for just one pint of blood, but that was just so that the reaction happened fast enough for their presentation. This, however, also meant that they were working with a dose far higher than what was needed to be lethal so they needed to take extreme precaution. Hebi spotted Peter as he sucked the venom out with his syringe, and she opened the small glass door in the top of their display for him.

Carefully, Peter injected the syringe into the skin and blood, pushing the venom slowly into both. Once the whole sample was in, he carefully put the syringe into the disposal bin for dangerous or contaminated lab items and shut the small glass door in the top of the display.

Both teens gathered in front of the cross-section viewing side of their project, and watched as the venom worked through the artificial system and congealed the blood. Hebi shut off the artificial heart once the blood got too thick, to make sure the machine didn't clog or break. After a long moment, Hebi and Peter shared another large smile.

It worked.

Everything worked!

The two worked together as they emptied out the blood and started the flushing system, once again sterilizing the whole thing before fitting in the second pint of blood.

"Ready?" Peter asked, watching Hebi do the same procedure for the Black Widow venom despite it being much less dangerous. She smiled at him, but her hands were steady despite her enthusiasm. She wasn't letting her nerves get the best of her.

"I got the boring part this time, but yes," she agreed easily. Carefully, she injected the venom into a different site than the rattlesnake injection site, and they watched the effect. As already anticipated, there were no real changes to the blood. Instead, there was a bump and red swelling around the injection area, and Hebi grinned. It was perfect to compare the injection site of the two venoms, and their chemical effects on skin as well as blood.

After removing their gloves, the students high-fived again. "Oh this is awesome," Hebi gushed. "We're gonna get an A for sure." Peter snorted.

"Please, if Miss Harrison doesn't ask us to submit this to a science competition, I'll be shocked."

Hebi looked at their project, pursing her lips. "This is only the second month of school though," she said slowly. "We can do something way better for a competition closer to the end of the year if we keep working together. And if we find a competition for small groups and invite Ned?"

Peter shook his head. "We'd be unbeatable. That's unfair for the other competitors," he said with mock sorrow. Hebi just put a hand on his shoulder in equally fake consolation.

"Too bad we don't care about fair if it isn't against the rules. Now let's flush the system, switch out the skin graft, and get everything ready for Friday. The day, not the A.I.— sorry FRI."

" _No worries, Hebi,"_ the A.I. replied casually.

—*—*—*—*—*

Peter and I had packed up everything, keeping the project (we had decided to name it the Mini Synthetic Organism Test Vessel, M.S.O.T.V or just T.V for short) running on a normal pump rhythm. It had fresh skin and blood, and the mechanical heart would keep it alive until presentation day. Peter and I had adjusted it to absorb oxygen from the air for the blood, so it would act also like a set of lungs.

I was so proud of us. The Heart ran on electrical energy, so while it was plugged into the Tower it would be running entirely on clean energy. Peter had told me that he and Tony were working on smaller, less expensive versions of Arc energy, so that more places could run cleanly. It was insurance hell for the time being, but I had faith that they'd work that out eventually.

Still. It could be huge for research and education purposes. I was ecstatic— it would also help me with my _own_ research. Which made me blink in realization.

"Hey, Pete?" He looked over at me. "Do you think we could make a second T.V for me to use for my personal project? We can keep it here if you want, or you can put a tracker in it if you want to make sure—" I paused when Peter started laughing at me, and frowned. He just patted my back, looking at me with his stupid doe brown eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Why would I put a tracker in it? It's _both_ of our invention. Besides, I trust you."

Those three words echoed in my head for a long moment, and I found myself grinning like an idiot. Peter rolled his eyes fondly.

"Honestly, Hebi. I know you wouldn't sell it or anything; you run your own successful small business so you don't need the money, and you don't care about fame. Just give me time to get all the stuff, and you can I can work on it together next weekend or something."

Looking into his eyes, I still had that dopey grin on my face. "Thanks, Parker-Stark," I said, punching his shoulder. He snorted, rubbing the spot where I punched him.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to do that lightly," he teased. I raised an eyebrow.

"That wasn't lightly?"

"For a Vigilante? Yes. For a supposed-to-be-normal teenager? No. Not at all," he informed me, making me tilt my head a bit.

"I know. But we're not normal, so why should I pretend? I knew I wouldn't hurt you."

_I knew I wouldn't hurt him?_

_That was new._ I was caught off guard by my own assurance, but Peter didn't notice and just judged me playfully. _What the hell is up with me being so comfortable around this guy?_ I wondered, mystified. I couldn't help but stare at his back as he went to get drinks, barely lucid enough to agree when he asked if I wanted a soda. _First I trust him with my life, and then I trust myself not to hurt him? I mean, I was relaxed and it wasn't a dangerous thing, but still. What the hell?_

My thought process was interrupted not long after Peter handed me my soda and I took a sip. The interrupter was none other than Bucky using-my-hero-worship-against-me Barnes. His eyes were gentle as he gentle jerked his head to the side to indicate an open elevator door. I raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Welp, I'll leave you two to have a totally normal conversation. I think I forgot to do Physics homework. Bye!" Peter said awkwardly, all but running to his room.

Okay, something was up and Peter was trying (and epically failing) to hide it. I took my gaze off of Peter's now-disappeared back, and put it back on my hero. The former assassin rubbed the back of his head.

"We're working on his ability to keep a secret, I swear," was the first thing he said. "It isn't going very well, but we're trying. Anyway, come on. I wanna talk to you in private. My floor?"

Knowing I wouldn't be able to refuse him, I sighed and took a deep sip from my soda before sighing. "Yeah let's go."

When we arrived in his and Steve's living room, Clint and Natasha were already lounging on the sofa in there and I froze.

"Fucking hell, this is an intervention," I realized it loud, turning back to the elevator. Too bad for me, the doors closed and Bucky gently herded me to the couches with his flesh arm. I grumbled, but went along as I sipped at my soda moodily.

"Look, guys, I've had a surprisingly good day today. Flash ignored us, Peter and I totally nailed our project, I actually feel good. Can we skip the emotion talk?"

"Nope," they all said at once, making me sink back into the cushions with a groan of despair.

"Peter wouldn't give us specifics, but he said he thinks you were close to doing something horrible yesterday," Clint started gently, leaning forward over his knees. "Considering how vague of a statement that is, do you want to elaborate? You know, pretending that Bucky and Nat didn't track you to that skyscraper five minutes before your dad got there. Don't worry, they didn't eavesdrop or read lips."

"We have _some_ decency," Nat agreed. I sighed, rubbing a hand through my bangs.

"I argued with Hank."

"Yeah, we got that," Bucky said with a nod. "But maybe you should explain how an argument lead to… that."

"I don't know!" I admitted, frustrated. I set my soda down heavily on the coffee table. "Usually I'd just brush off things like that without a second thought. Hank was just being an ass, giving me a hard time. It was nowhere near bad enough to have gotten under my skin!"

"But it did," Nat prodded, head slightly tilted to one side as she analyzed me face. I nodded dumbly, my hands limp from where they dropped between my knees with my forearms laid across my legs.

"I got mad. I don't know why, I just did. Next thing I know, I'm breaking down how to kill Hank, Hope, and Scott, what methods I'd use, how long it would take, and how I'd escape. I didn't even fully realize what I was doing until I saw my hand clutching that damn lamp," the room was eerily silent, and I leaned further forward, clutching my head between my hands. "God, they looked scared even though they don't know everything I can do. They know I'm Boa, yeah, but they don't know anything else. They don't know about Dryad. That's what finished waking me up, seeing them all getting ready for a fight."

"Scott told us," Clint admitted softly. "He came here about half an hour after you left, according to him, and since I told him about us knowing about you being Boa, he just gushed about the whole thing. He's not good at keeping things in, you know that," the archer explained softly. I just nodded. "We kinda figured it was bad, but…"

"We didn't think it was that bad," Bucky admitted. "I had a feeling, but I hoped it wasn't what I thought. Nat and Clint were convinced that you were just about to punch him or something, but unfortunately what you just said makes more sense with the whole skyscraper thing. I thought you were gonna jump, Hebi."

I laughed humorlessly. "I almost did," I whispered my confession. "It's hell. Thinking I was close to killing my _friends_. Two seconds away from doing something I'd never be able to reverse," Bucky gently removed my hands from the sides of my head before I tore out hair. I let him. "I don't _want_ to be that person anymore, but it's a part of me and that was a horrible fucking reminder of that fact. I wasn't brainwashed," I looked up at Bucky, not wanting to know what my face looked at right then. Probably pathetic. "It was always _me._ A different part, but I was always conscious. I always made my decisions consciously no matter how much I hated them," I rubbed at my face. "Nobody can ever make a valid argument for me _not_ being responsible for that shit I did. Dryad made killing a _part of me,_ and all I've ever wanted since I escaped was to get rid of that side. I thought running away and pretending it never existed would work, but I was so _stupid,"_ my nails were digging into my pants, and once again Bucky had to draw them away before I hurt myself. I didn't fight him. "So I thought that killing myself would solve it. If I can't get rid of a side of me, get rid of the whole infected thing, you know? It makes sense. If I don't want to hurt anybody, I just have to get rid of the danger."

"But you didn't jump," Clint reminded me, still talking softly and kindly. "You let your dad take you back. You had a good day today. What changed?"

I took a deep breath. "I got selfish," I gave the three of them a lopsided smile. "I realized that I was saving people as Boa. I don't think it registered before yesterday that Boa actually _saves_ lives. I thought about the building fire. And how I need to keep Daredevil from killing himself on patrol," I leaned back in my seat, staring up at the ceiling. "I realized I wanted to make sure my friends stayed alive, with my own eyes. I still don't like myself, I don't know if I ever will," I lowered my head to look at the three. "But what I realized up there, and with what Matt and Peter have said to me… I think I can try putting up with myself in order to make sure they're okay. Maybe I can reverse just a little of the blood on my hands by saving as many people as I can instead of just jumping towards death."

Bucky gave me a small smile, and Natasha and Clint leaned back with fairly satisfied looks on their faces.

"It still sucks, and I'm still pissed at Hank and disgusted with myself though, so tips would be appreciated because this isn't just an uphill battle, it's fucking rock wall climbing. With no rope. In the ass crack of winter. While being ambushed by angry ninjas."

Natasha snorted at my description, which gave me a tiny trill of satisfaction.

"It sucks," Bucky agreed, taking a breath. "And I don't think anyone else can relate besides me, which is a good thing but not necessarily great if you're looking for a bunch of different opinions," he leaned back and crossed his arms. I watched as his eyes filled with soft vulnerability, making me sit up at attention.

"I almost killed Steve once. And not the barely-stopped-myself-from-attacking sort of close, either. In the barely-stopped-myself-from- _finishing_ -it kind of way," he confessed. Suddenly feeling as if my lungs were empty, I drew in a deep breath. That was heavy shit. "What's worse is that Steve almost let me," he was staring up at the ceiling, just like I had a few minutes earlier. "And yeah, I could just blame it on the brainwashing. But that feels cheap, because it's still _my body_ , still _my mind_ ," he lowered his face to look at me. His eyes were sharper and stronger than I was used to, making me tense. "So stop saying that you can't blame brainwashing, as if I'm more innocent than you for some reason. I feel that guilt just as badly, because I should have been in control of myself but I wasn't. I wasn't strong enough to fight their brainwashing, and that hurts just as badly. Secondly, I'm pretty sure I've said this before but saying that you weren't brainwashed is bullshit," I blinked rapidly, caught off guard by his swear. I hadn't had him directing that language at me before. "It is. They broke you when you were a _child,_ at least I was already an adult when I was taken. They convinced you the only way to survive was to follow what they said, and you believed them because you were a _kid_ and there was nothing else _to_ believe _._ It's okay to feel guilty about what you did, I'd be a hypocrite to say you shouldn't, but the blame doesn't lie on you as much as you think it does and you need to know that."

I looked down at my lap.

"I mean, it could be worse," Natasha spoke up, her voice too casual. "You could have remained an assassin until you were an adult and didn't have an excuse. You could have been too weak to find and take the chance to escape," I let just my eyes move to look at her, only to find her staring right at me unflinchingly. "It could have taken an arrow through your knee and the asshole archer who sent it to make you realize that what you were doing was wrong, and that there was a way out."

"You could have been raised in a circus and betrayed by your asshole brother," Clint offered cheerily. "After also becoming a criminal because of the asshole ringmaster of the circus, anyway. You could have been found by _Fury_ first, which is just a trip. He pulls the whole 'this is bigger than just you,' 'you can make a difference,' and 'feel threatened by the weapons I'm casually showing off in the background,' acts all at the same time."

I snorted at that one, grinning at Clint gratefully. "Well. Is this a who-had-the-worse-life game now? Because I think Clint is a clear last place loser and I come just barely short of first just because of being so much younger than you two," I jabbed my thumbs towards Bucky and Natasha, who smirked.

"We know you wouldn't hurt any of us on purpose," Natasha's sudden declaration nearly made me faint in surprise. I whipped my head up to her, eyes wide as dinner plates.

"I'm sorry, I think I should go see Bruce. I just had an auditory hallucination."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I mean it, brat," she said, and if I didn't know any better I would have said she sounded almost fond. "We aren't worried about what you do on purpose anymore. It's moments like yesterday with Hank that have us keeping an eye on you, but it isn't just for our sakes. You going suicidal because of hurting someone accidentally doesn't just affect us. You're the one who would die, idiot."

I blinked, cleaning out one ear with my pinkie. "Are you guys sure this isn't a hallucination?"

Bucky flicked me across the ear, making me wince playfully. "She means it, Hebi. And not just because you hurting yourself would depress everyone in the Tower. She cares too, she just doesn't like to show it."

"See, this is the part when you're supposed to admit that she reminds you of yourself," Clint said patronizingly to Natasha, who kicked him in the shin without hesitation. As Clint rolled around the floor in pain, I found myself sniffing to hold back tears.

"Thank you," I breathed. "It means a hell of a lot."

"If you tell anyone about this, I will plant a stink bomb in your wardrobe," Natasha threatened. I held up my hands in surrender, but was still slightly smiling.

Yeah, it was a good day.

— ***—*—*—*—***

**Bit of a longer one today, yay! Maybe not as fluffy as I wanted..? Eh. Next chapter will be much more comfort, and then probably angst afterwards again. We'll see.**

**Thank you guys so much for reading, and as always see you next chapter!~**


	17. Chapter 17

It was Friday. I was a little twitchy, for multiple reasons. The first was that it was the day for me and Peter to present our science project. The second was that I had already agreed to go out on patrol with Matt that night to see if we could find my old teacher, Tian, who had been laying low and unnoticed since the day I found out who Spider-Man was. The whole issue with her was making me twitchy, to be honest, the longer she was missing. I knew her, at least a few things about her, very well. One glaring thing about her was that she never gave up on something once she started, she was methodical and a sore loser. Once someone escaped from or one-upped her, she would never accept another job or task until they were taken down or she came out on top again.

Even if that took literal years.

Perhaps that was why she had been chosen as my first teacher, since she was the one who had to deal with my six and seven-year-old clumsiness and stubbornness.

Regardless. She wasn't anywhere around as far as we could tell, and there was still one thing making me twitchy.

My shed was coming early.

It sucked when it did that, but it was like a period sometimes—it came early or late when it felt like fucking with me. I could feel the transparent scale over my eyes starting to push out, the very first few drops of liquid that would separate it from my eye starting to dull my sight and make my eyes water. It would probably be completely in effect by the next morning, I knew. I really hated my sheds.

I let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. Long enough for Matt to finish breakfast, apparently.

"Hebs, you okay?" His voice floated over to me from the kitchen, where he was already sat down at the counter with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. A plate of blueberry crepes sat waiting for me, with a slowly deflating dollop of whipped cream. I blinked, and stood up to go over to him.

"I'm fine," I assured him as I stretched my back, popping the joints slowly. Part snake or not, I could still get stiff joints and popping them was always like a slice of heaven. Sighing in pleasure once that was done, I sat down on my stool and started on my breakfast. "Just annoyed. Shed's coming a few days early," I informed him, watching as he frowned around a mouthful of his food at the news. "It'll probably be completely here tomorrow morning, Sunday at the latest. So, it's not _too_ bad," I popped a bite of crepe in my mouth. Yum. Who would have guessed a blind guy could cook so well?

Then again, Matt was better at navigating than most _sighted_ people so… didn't matter.

"Still, that can't be easy on you," he sympathized. "It can't be easy even when it's being a _predictable_ cycle, so I know this is probably stressing you out," I slumped in my seat as he hit the nail on the head. "You can talk to me if you need to, remember that. By the way, don't forget you have a box of sales to ship out, and good luck on your presentation today."

I smiled at him gratefully, even if he couldn't see it, and continued to eat.

"Also, I started heating water for you since you seemed a little out of it this morning," Matt told me, making me realize I hadn't had my morning tea yet. That was weird, I hardly ever missed it. Then again, the whole shed thing really threw me off. I shrugged it off, getting up and getting a cup ready to steep for my breakfast, and getting my WickedTea thermos ready so I could just pour hot water, plop in a tea bag, and go after I finished getting ready.

Twenty minutes later that was exactly what I did, belly full and ready for the day. I slung a bag of boxes over my shoulder after I put my backpack on, and after a quick goodbye to Matt I was out. I stopped by the nearest UPS to ship off all my packages before heading the rest of the way to my bus stop (the perks of going to a rich school like Midtown, they made sure students could get a bus ride no matter how far away they lived). Sometimes Matt, Foggy, or Karen would drop off the orders that needed to be shipped if I couldn't, but I liked doing it myself whenever possible. It helped remind me that I was leading a life I previously would have only dreamed of.

One uneventful ride later, I was walking up to the school entrance to greet my three friends. Ned was, as I had suspected, a bundle of nerves. MJ was unaffected by the presentation coming up, and Peter was pretending to struggle under the weight of the T.V and his backpack, with Clint Barton in all his undercover glory standing nonchalantly off to the side with the box of venom vials. I grinned at the man, one of the very few Avengers actually capable of making a public appearance without being immediately recognized—provided he didn't go out in full uniform, that was. As he was pretending to be Peter's foster father (a cover story Peter had already texted me about), the archer was wearing a plain blue shirt under a black blazer, with plain black slacks underneath. Simple, suave, and nondescript.

"Classic spy," I signed with a smirk, which Clint immediately caught and snorted at. "Anybody know about the whole hearing thing?" I asked him, again in sign language, which caused the man to straighten up and walk over.

"We won't tell anybody unless they ask, but we won't keep it a secret," he responded out loud, obviously talking about his deafness like I had asked about. "It's best to be as truthful as possible for a compelling lie. Now then, rugrats," he clapped his hands happily. "I'm told a responsible adult is needed for these babies," he gently patted the padded box carrying the venom, "And I suppose I fit that label, so let's go in and get everything set up."

Ned had thankfully already had the Avengers Exposure Therapy, so he didn't squeal and ramble about Hawkeye coming to our class like Peter had told me he would have a year or two earlier. Instead, he just smiled so wide that I feared he would split his face in half, and dragged MJ with him down to class so they could set up their things before school started. After all, we still had the rest of the day as normal so there would be a few hours yet before we had to present. I rolled my eyes at the boy's enthusiasm, and then slid my eyes over to my own science partner.

Peter was still pretending to struggle under the weight of metal and glass, making me cringe. It was realistic enough, if maybe a bit melodramatic, but his flailing was making me very nervous. I could only watch for a few seconds before I couldn't take it and rushed forward.

"Okay, that's it wimp," I drawled as I carefully took the T.V out of his hands and cradled it in my own arms. "You're gonna drop it if you keep doing that nonsense, and we worked too hard for even a hairline _crack_ in the glass to be acceptable. Go help your _dad_ sign in, I think he's flirting with the office lady," I warned my friend, making him wince and whirl towards Clint as soon as our project was safely in my grasp. Sure enough, the archer was leaned slightly over the office counter, grinning and using his charm on the poor defenseless secretary there. A sound halfway between a squeak and a whine squeezed itself out of Peter's throat as the lanky boy ran forward to stop the train wreck before it could go any further.

I grinned, watching for a moment as Peter intervened and got Clint safely signed in and given a visitor sticker to put on his chest. The older man also had to sign a few safety slips and open the venom box to show that there were only the amount of equipment and venom vials that we had already declared and not a drop more.

Luckily, Peter and I had already gotten a late slip for our first period since all this safety stuff had already been expected to run past the first bell, so the three of us were able to take our time heading into the chemistry classroom and setting our things down.

"I'm gonna sit here and chill until your class period," Clint informed us, pulling over a chair and slumping down in it. He instantly brought out his phone. "Can't leave lethal venom unattended in a classroom of pubescent teenagers, after all, and the teacher's gonna be distracted by presentations all day."

"Keep an eye out for anything interesting," I sling an arm over Peter's shoulder, a predatory grin sliding over my lips. "'Cause once we go up, they'll all look like—"

"Shhh!" Peter slapped a hand over my mouth, making me raise an eyebrow. His face was deep red. "They can hear you!" He jerked his head to the side to indicate the first period class, all with their presentations ready and sharp glares aimed at me. I looked from the possible mob and then back to Peter before shrugging.

Clint had his head bowed, trying desperately to hold back laughter at my expense.

"My sentiment stands," I mumbled past my friend's hand, tugging my head away from his grasp to set our project down next to the box of venom. "No offense to them or anything, but we're the best."

" _Hebi!"_

—*—*—*—*—*

The hours passed quickly, filled with Hebi and Peter going over last-minute tips with one another and double checking all of their equipment hat didn't have to stay in the chemistry room, like their extra pairs of gloves and syringes.

"Aunt Nat is coming over with a cooler of blood for Uncle Clint to bring in," Peter told his partner. The Asian teen nodded, having noticed the most important part missing from the rest of the setup besides what was already running through the M.S.O.T.V. They only needed one extra pint, so it wasn't a big deal, but keeping a bag of blood in a top of teenagers for an extended length of time probably wasn't smart. Having it arrive only a half hour early was best.

Finally, the time came. It was… kind of anticlimactic. It was like any other school presentation—they went up to the front of the class, set everything up, and did their thing.

"We decided, for our demonstration of a chemical reaction, to show how the proteins in rattlesnake venom react to blood and change it's properties. This reaction is what makes rattlesnake venom lethal, so if you are queasy around blood you probably won't want to watch," Peter was on point, not stuttering at all once they got past their introductions. Science was his area of expertise and comfort, nerves didn't have nearly as much of an effect on him when it was involved. Hebi was similarly relaxed, though it was mostly an act.

After a childhood of being taught over and over to avoid attention at all costs, having an entire classroom's focus on her was… unnerving. It sent her heartbeat speeding up a bit, enough to actually get Peter's attention from his spot only a couple feet away. The boy tilted his head at her, but Hebi only smiled easily and continued on with their presentation.

Bluffing was an art form she had mastered, after all. Her nerves wouldn't beat her.

The audible cringe and disgust from the entire class once the blood in the M.S.O.T.V coagulated was immensely satisfying to both teenagers, and neither of them realized that they both relaxed at the reaction. The biggest part of the project was over, and had been received perfectly. But Clint, with his above average vision and sharp attention focused solely on the two of them, grinned. Hebi and Peter's shoulders had dropped at almost the same time, tension flooding away from their bodies.

The second half of their presentation, including showing the class how the T.V's flushing system worked, went even more smoothly and casually because of it.

Barton waited for them after class, when everyone was packing away their projects. Hebi and Peter had to keep their actual M.S.O.T.V with the teacher, but the skin graft, used blood, and everything else had to be disposed of or taken home.

"So," Clint greeted with a smile. "We have an extra vial of both venoms. Wanna keep them in your chem lab, Pete?"

The teen vigilante nodded, eyes drooping. Public speaking apparently drained his energy— Hebi patted his back in sympathy.

"Yes please," he answered verbally. "In one of my fridges? It should stay cool. I can find something to use it for… probably," he rubbed his forehead, causing Hebi to chuckle.

"It's time for lunch, let's go get your energy back up," she suggested, amused. "Thanks Clint, see you later?" The archer just waved cheerily before leaving with everything that was to be taken home or disposed of. Once he was gone, Hebi slung her arm around Peter's shoulders and led the sleepy boy to the cafeteria.

He peeked right back up with completely renewed energy once some food was in him.

 _I wonder if I can analyze the DNA in the venom,_ the former assassin thought as she ate from her bento for that day. _I doubt it will tell me anything useful since I don't have venom, but it's worth a shot._

"What about you, Hebi?"

The girl twitched, caught off guard. She looked up from her food, a slice of omelette sticking half out of her mouth. She blinked, swallowing the half in her mouth and lowering the rest with her chopsticks.

"What about me?"

Peter and Ned shared an amused glance, used to Hebi zoning out whenever someone wasn't directly speaking to her.

"Halloween, duh," Ned spoke, but clearly that didn't clarify anything for his friend, because Hebi just tilted her head in confusion— a trait she picked up from Matt. The plump boy sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Your costume, Hebi! We aren't too old to trick or treat yet, so we're dragging you with us—"

"Wait, don't I get a say in that?"

"No," all three of her friends monotonously informed her. She snorted, shaking her head at their antics.

"Even you, MJ?" Hebi asked, a little surprised that her sarcastic friend was going to willingly go trick or treating. The curly haired girl grinned.

"I don't go for the candy, I go to troll people and silently judge the cheap costumes everyone is going to be wearing."

Hebi nodded, figuring that sounded pretty typical of the other girl. Still, trick or treating… Hebi shoved the second half of the omelette she had been eating in her mouth to hide her smile.

She hadn't been trick or treating in _years_ , the idea filled her with childish joy.

"Uh," she said once she swallowed her food. "I don't know, I don't have a costume yet. What about you guys?"

Peter looked offended. He put a hand over his heart dramatically to show that he was just being silly, but his eyes stayed wide open. "Halloween is in two weeks, what do you _mean_ you don't have your costume yet?"

Hebi rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, because my dad would _love_ going shopping for costumes," she retorted. Peter ducked his head, looking chagrined.

"Huh?" Ned asked, he and MJ not having been filled in on Matt being Hebi's dad. Hebi sighed, weighing the pros and cons as she met Peter's eyes. Peter tilted his head in response, and shrugged as if trying to say _I'll back you up if you decide to tell them._

Hebi nodded, accepting that silent discussion before turning to her two other friends, who had been watching the silent exchange very closely and had twin knowing grins on their faces that Hebi worked very hard to ignore. She cleared her throat pointedly.

"Anyway, you probably already suspected this, but you remember the day that teacher was a jackass and I was picked up by Matthew Murdock and his law partner?"

Ned's eyes filled with sudden recognition, and Peter had to lunge forward to cover the filipino's mouth before he could yell Hebi's secret too loudly. It took a minute, but Ned slowly calmed down and nodded to Peter that it was okay to remove his hand. Hebi and Peter let out a synchronized sigh of relief.

MJ's lips twitched. "Yeah, I suspected. Murdock's your dad, right? Makes sense why he wouldn't take you Halloween shopping," she drawled easily, clearly not surprised.

"Oh my god, he's _blind_! It all makes sense now," Ned breathed in awe, eyes still wide as saucers. "Well, you have to go costume shopping with one of us, then."

Peter nodded his head rapidly. "Definitely. Celebrating Halloween without a costume should be illegal. I can take you tomorrow if you want," he offered, and Hebi snorted.

"Dude," she said with a smirk, "Why are you so excited? You wear a costume almost every day," she teased her vigilante friend, who promptly started imitating a cherry.

"That's different and you know it," he argued weakly, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve with one hand in embarrassment. Ned and MJ snickered. Hebi shrugged, smiling.

"Yeah, I'm just giving you a hard time. What are you going as, then? And I can't go this weekend, I can feel my eyes starting to be stupid, my light sensitivity is probably going to be all over the place tomorrow. Next weekend?"

MJ popped a bite of food in her mouth, watching her Asian friend with a raised eyebrow for a moment. "That only gives you like four days before Halloween to find a costume. Last minute much?" The edgy girl pointed out. Ned nodded.

"Yeah, you'll be left with all the costumes nobody wants. And you're tiny—"

"Hey," Peter and Hebi objected at the same time, being the same size in almost every aspect. They were duly ignored.

"—so we might not even find your size in a normal costume and might have to go for, like, an extra large in child's size or something," the boy continued to ramble, which made Hebi cover her mouth to keep back a laugh.

"I would not fit in a kid's size, even extra large," she protested. "It would be baggy in all the wrong places. If you are so concerned about it, I can look through some of Peter's old costumes if I don't find anything in the store. The one day I won't get any shit for cross dressing, might as well milk the hell out of it," she suggested casually, looking pleased with herself. The other girl at the table nodded in approval.

"Gender norms are stupid anyway," Michelle agreed verbally. Ned was _bouncing,_ and Peter still looked embarrassed.

"Uh, I mostly went as Star Wars characters in the past, or sometimesIwentasTonyorStevebutyoucan'ttellthem," he said the last part as fast as he could, successfully keeping Hebi from figuring out what he said. She pouted, turning her hearing aids on (she always turned them off at lunch because of how loud the whole room got), and leaning forward slightly.

"What was that? I couldn't read your lips, try again," she told her friend. The boy sunk deeper into his seat, his fork halfway in his mouth. He chewed on the plastic a bit before saying much more slowly:

"My old costumes are almost all Star Wars, but I went as Iron Man and Captain America before, but those costumes are probably way too small by now so you don't have to worry about telling _anyone_ about their existence. Really. Nobody."

Hebi's smile widened into something mischievous, and the green fragments in her eyes shimmered dangerously. Peter paled.

"I know who I should go as for Halloween," she said in a deceptively casual voice, her face never changing. "Spider-Man has costumes of him being sold, r—"

"Heeeebiiiiiii," Peter whined almost immediately, pulling the fork out of his mouth and slumping over the table in despair. "We look at normal costumes next weekend first, and if you don't find anything then you can go as Spider-Man," he relented grumpily, his three friends laughing at how he sounded so annoyed.

—*—*—*—*—*

I whipped my cowl off, looking at the clock on my phone. Two A.M stared back at me. Hours spent out on patrol, and nothing. My vision was already getting cloudy, and it was extremely annoying. Everything was annoying.

"Calm down," Matt's voice said softly, his hand landing on my shoulder. I sighed, rubbing my forehead and letting my shoulders droop. "We'll find her. It's just a matter of when and how, that's all. She's probably staying inside at night to avoid us, which means she's planning something. That is good in that it gives us time to find her and prepare, and it isn't going to help if you stress about it right now. Get some sleep, your shed always makes you cranky."

I looked up at him, still in his costume. I took in everything—his red hair, his milky eyes that weren't hidden behind cowl or glasses for once, the fact that he towered over me at about six foot tall, the way his muscles were defined by the Daredevil suit. I took in everything I could.

"Hebi?" He asked softly when I stayed still for too long.

"Just give me a second," I whispered back. I had no idea why I was being quiet, but it seemed right for the time of night and what I was doing. "Memorizing you."

Those two words were all he needed, Matt instantly sinking into himself and his face seeming to age. He ran a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Hebi… honestly, I don't know whether to be touched or worried or depressed, so I'm a mix of all three," he admitted before ruffling my already mask-messy pixie cut. "You'll be fine. You'll wake up next Friday or Saturday able to see again just fine. You don't need to memorize me, I'll be right here."

But the doubt was crawling around inside me. "But what if—"

"No," Matt interrupted. "You're exhausted and stressed, that's the only reason you're being so negative right now. Get some rest, Hebs. I'll be here in the morning and we'll have a nice, relaxing day. Okay?"

I breathed in slowly, nodding. "Yeah… yeah that sounds good," I admitted. "Can I…" I choked on the words a bit, shifting where Is good in front of our counter. "I'm, after we change can I sleep in your bed with you? I mean, I know I'm pretty much an adult b—"

"Of course, stupid," he agreed gently. He knew. Having someone helped with the nightmares, with the trauma, with the self depreciation. But it also helped with the lack of sight, having someone whose scent and heartbeat I recognized so close by. We had only slept on the couch together during my worst nights, but I knew that it took a toll on him. The fabric was rough against his hypersensitive skin, and it was always cramped.

Ten minutes later we were both changed and in his bed. He laid on his back, and I was curled up on my side next to him.

"Holy crap these sheets are soft," I remarked, never having been completely inside of them like I was then. "Maybe your expensive tastes are on to something."

Matt laughed, gently cuffing my head. "Go to sleep, menace."

"Yeah, Yeah. Good night."

It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep with his scent curling around me so completely, and his heartbeat's strong vibration through the mattress relaxed my every muscle.

It was a very good sleep.

When morning came, the first thing I registered were arms around me. Instinctually I tensed, not prepared or expecting the contact. After sleeping with Matt on the couch though, I knew better than to lash out. After all, it was his scent heavy on my scent receptors that I registered next. Safety. I was safe. Ignoring the lack of light even though my eyes were open, I snuggled deeply into the warmth around me.

I was woken up by Matt shifting in bed, peeling his arms away from me and sitting up. Confused, I stretched and focused on what was going on— oh. Two heat signatures and scents that shouldn't have been there.

Foggy and Karen.

I groaned, not wanting to be awake yet. Since covering my eyes would do nothing, I sprawled out as wide as I could over the bed that was now lacking my dad's presence, trying to cover as much of the warm spot he left vacant as possible.

Mmm, warmmmm.

More snickers.

"Vicious, isn't she?" Foggy's voice spoke up, heavy with amusement. "Killer of men, absorber of body heat," he teased. I groaned loudly in protest.

"I don't wanna get up so shuuuut your faaaaaceeee!"

"Queen of Whining," Karen suggested, chuckling. "And her knight in shining bedhead," oh good, she switched to teasing Matt. My wonderful father figure was not a morning person, and grunted at them as he traded out his pajama shirt for a regular one, not at all concerned about Karen's presence. She left the room, but she could not hide the extra degree in heat that her cheeks gained from me.

Blackmail. Oh, sweet sweet blackmail.

"I want ice cream," I declared, feeling the two men still in the room turn to me. I wished I could see their expressions.

"We already slept in, Hebi," Matt was quick to shoot me down. "Brunch first, ice cream later."

"Buuuut I'm not gonna stick arouuuund," I thrashed dramatically in the bed, tangling the silk sheets. "You said Tian probably isn't moving at night, right? Sooo—"

"Oh no," Matt interrupted, and I was able to register him pointing a finger at me in warning. "You aren't going out on a _day_ patrol. It's too risky, and you just started your shed."

"Yessss," I agreed. "But I haven't cashed in my second patrol of the week yet. So hah."

"Hebi," Matt stared in my direction for a solid minute. Foggy whistled.

"Holy shit, a staring contest between _blind people_. You guys aren't making eye contact, stop being dramatic," the walking ball of sunshine interjected, settling an arm around Matt's shoulder. "Look at it this way. Crime is way less prevalent and less dangerous during the day, and that spider kid patrols during the day too, right? She is gonna be safer, and even has possible backup. Everyone wins," he threw his other arm out dramatically. Hypocrite. Matt grumbled under his breath before sighing.

"Fine. But you can't leave until you eat, and you call me—"

"Before I start patrol and as soon as I am heading back," I interrupted him to finish his sentence. "Yes, I know. I'll call you if I catch even a _rumor_ about Tian, and I still want ice cream if I'm going to be forced to eat."

"What flavor?"

"Blueberry."

"Deal, get dressed."

I whooped in triumph, flying out of bed and grabbing some clothes from my side of Matt's closet. I was about to run to the restroom to change but—

"You have a purple shirt and red pants, Hebi," Foggy interrupted me, making me pause. He must have meant my red capris, which… yeah the length meant exactly nothing when the colors clashed that badly. Shit. I threw the pants at him.

"Could you pick me out some jeans then? You're the best!"

I was met with the requested jeans flopping onto my face. Sending him a thumbs up, I grabbed the item of clothing and continued off to the restroom for my daily routine.

An hour later, Matt was handing me a personal sized carton of blueberry ice cream that he had just bought, Foggy and Karen watching not far away, their own frozen treats in hand. We were all kids at heart, honestly. I snatched the carton greedily, relishing the freezing temperature against my partially cold-blooded palms. It hurt, but it didn't at the same time. The odd limbo between pain and pleasure was something that never failed to interest me, it was so odd. I opened the container hastily, digging in my spoon and shoving the first scoop I got into my mouth.

My moan of pleasure made all three of the adults with me burst into laughter. I rose my now-empty spoon to them in a mock salute.

"Okay, I'm taking this lovely soft serve to-go, I'll be home before dinner!"

"Oy!" Matt protested weakly as I turned and ran off with my sugary treat, shoveling mouthfuls as I sprinted. He quickly gave up, I was able to sense as he turned back to his two friends with what was probably a very exasperated expression. I ducked into the first safe alley I could find, changing into my suit while precariously holding my ice cream carton with my mouth— I was _not_ putting my baby down on the filthy ground of a New York City alleyway. It was for me, not the roaches. Somehow I managed to do it without losing any of my desert or staining my costume, so that was a win. It probably helped that the Boa suit didn't have a mouth to begin with, just having a cowl that covered the neck and my head front the nose up. Suited up, I shoveled another scoop of ice cream into my mouth before scooping up my backpack and scaling the side of a building, where I proceeded to stash the empty bag in a corner of the roof where very few would look.

Much safer than stashing it in the alley, where anyone could happen upon it. The building I chose had the roof access locked, so I was feeling pretty safe in my choice. Still, there wasn't anything identifying on or in the bag so even if it was taken I was still gonna be okay.

Maybe I should make WickedTea backpacks. I filed that thought away for another time, leisurely jogging over rooftops as I ate my treat. It was pretty cool since it was fall, so I wasn't too worried about it melting anytime soon.

"Oh man, now I'm jealous," a very familiar voice said as a lithe body landed on the rooftop beside me. I turned my head, spoon in my mouth mid-bite, to Spider-Man's (damn it, Peter) lithe form standing in all its spandex glory (no, Stark, I didn't care if it wasn't _actually_ spandex) next to me. I wished I could see him, his mask's eyes were probably being really funny.

Slowly and deliberately I removed my spoon from my mouth, dug it into the carton in my hand, and very slowly pushed the new spoonful of blueberry soft serve past my lips. I could feel as Peter shifted, putting his fists on his hips in mock anger.

"Now that's just rude."

I shrugged, fighting back a smile. When everything was said and done, Peter was a surprisingly grounding force for me. Even when I was in my shed and more vulnerable than usual, his mere presence still helped me relax a little. It was more than a little befuddling.

"Not sorry," I said nonchalantly, keeping my voice a slightly breathy whisper to disguise it. "Anyway. What's up? Nobody to punch?" I asked, moving my carton as if to look into it. Half empty, I could tell by the heat signature. Damn.

"What about you?" My costumes friend shot back easily. "Daytime isn't really your gig, and you're not even in Hell's kitchen."

I shrugged, not surprised that he easily caught onto that. It was pretty damn obvious, actually. "Eh. I'm restless, and looking for somebody. She's been laying low, Daredevil thought she might only be moving during the day to avoid me, so here I am," I spread my arms to either side of me. "Hey. I don't really know how the crime usually flows during the day, mind showing me the most active areas?"

I turned my head after another bite of ice cream, only to realize that his head was tilted. I waited a second for the cold from the ice cream to fade just in case I was registering things wrong, and when I realized I wasn't I tilted my own head to mimic him.

"What?"

"Nothing, just," he started, shifting his weight. "You're different. Last time I saw you, you were all grumbly and 'you don't have enough training,' and stuff. I thought you'd be more broody," he told me, wiggling his fingers in my direction when he said 'broody'. I laughed, shaking my head and waving my spoon at him.

"Nah. That was a bad night," I assured him, sobering up at the memory. "Or maybe today is just a good day, I don't know. Anyway, you gonna help me or not?"

He shrugged. "Why not, it's a slow day. Better keep up," he had barely finished the warning before running and leaping off the building, shoot out a line of webbing and swinging off. I cursed in glee, tightening my hand on my ice cream before taking off after him, following his heat signature and scent trail via the rooftops.

This was nice. Nobody that had to know that I was blind, and therefore nobody around to treat me any differently. No pity, no careful touches, just playful challenge and freedom. It felt so nice—or maybe that was the frozen treat in my hand.

Peter seemed to be enjoying it too, letting out whoops of glee at nearly every swing, or laughing when he turned his head to see me not far behind. I found myself grinning widely, not caring if anyone saw my exposed lips actually exhibiting my joy. Spider-Man was just a bundle of joy, it was almost impossible to stay stoic around him for long periods of time. He showed me (proverbially) the alleyways and neighborhoods where gang activity or other crimes were most common, the two of us having to drop in and stop a few as a testament to the truth behind his words.

I pinned a guy, a gangster around the age of twenty or so by his scent, and a crackhead, by his shoulder with one hand.

"Hey there," I said darkly, no longer cheery like I was when talking to Peter. I could feel said Spider-Man standing behind me, watching my every move like a hawk. I didn't let it bother me, knowing full well just what kind of violent reputation I had. Even with my mostly-empty desert in one hand, I still managed to make the criminal I was holding tremble. It was empowering. "See, you're already beat and you're friends are all wrapped up so you should really stop twitching your hand towards that knife in your boot," his hand froze, and I smirked darkly. "Good. Listen, I don't really feel up to breaking any bones today. Goody-goody behind me wouldn't let me anyway," I jerked the thumb on my ice-cream holding hand to indicate Spider-Man. "But I'm the one holding you right now, so he wouldn't make it in time if I decided to, we clear? If you answer my questions honestly, we won't have to do that. And believe me, I'll know if you lie. Deal?" with my hand on his shoulder, keeping him firmly against the wall, his heartbeat was all too obvious to me. Even the slightest fluctuation and I would notice it immediately.

The man nodded his head rapidly, and I smiled. "Good, then this should be easy. A girl named Tian, dangerous sort. About five foot ten, navy blue hair, tattoo of a dove stabbing a duck with its beak on the back of her neck. Know her?"

He shook his head, and I sighed. "N-nah man, never heard of her. I promise, if I knew I'd—"

"Yeah I know," I interrupted before he could babble on or get even more panicked. "I told you I'd know if you lied, so calm the fuck down. You're still going to the police though," I wasted not one knocking him out swiftly, stepping back to allow Spidey to web him up with the others. I waited on the roof of a nearby building for him, leaning over to drop my empty carton and spoon into the open dumpster below.

"Hey," he said, his weight plopping down beside me as we waited to make sure the police picked up the gang members. "That was…"

"Yeah, I know. Not your style," I interrupted, tone blank. It hadn't quite sunk in, I guess, just how _pacifistic_ he was for a vigilante. Or maybe how violent _I_ was in comparison to him. This was my friend, I wasn't really comfortable with the realization that he had seen me like that. Purposely being threatening, even if he didn't know it was me.

He shook his head, making me turn my head to him.

"I've seen worse," he admitted shyly. "I would have stepped in if you had actually broken anything, that would have been too far for sure. But… You weren't as bad as people make you out to be," he said, running the back of his neck. "It was actually kinda cool if I'm honest. I've tried being intimidating, never really been able to pull it off. But you just stood there with a freaking carton of _ice cream_ in one hand as if badass is just in your blood or something, it was…" he shook his head as if he couldn't really put his thoughts into words. It made me snort softly.

"Badass _is_ a part of me," I corrected him gently, laying my arms across my knees and leaning forward, not at all concerned about my balance on the lip of the roof. "I've seen some really horrible shit, _done_ some really horrible shit. If you knew everything I'd done, I'd be the one webbed up," I didn't know why I was confiding all this in him, but maybe it was because he didn't know I was Hebi. He didn't know my age, or what I looked like, I could go right back to being his friend in a few days regardless of whether or not his opinion of Boa changed or how it did.

And maybe a part of me was sick of lying all the time.

"What do you mean?" He asked softly, his head turned towards me and his gaze heavy on the side of my face. I didn't look towards him. "You're a vigilante now, regardless of what you did before. Whatever happened in the past, it must have been a _different_ you, or else you'd still be doing those things," he turned his head away from me and leaned back on his hands behind him. "Everyone deserves a chance to become somebody better than they were before. It seems to me like you made your own chance. Whatever you did before, I don't really want to know or care about. What you are doing now is what's important, and even if you're a bit… extreme for my tastes, it's pretty obvious you're really helping out. Crime in Hell's Kitchen has been going down since Daredevil showed up, but it's at an all time low now that you're helping him out. So… I guess I'm trying to say that you're good in my book."

I couldn't say anything for a long moment, my throat and tongue refusing to cooperate. Eventually a sound came out, but to my horror it was a dry sob—no tears, just the disbelief. It seemed to startle Peter, making him jump a bit and straighten up. I could feel his heartbeat speed up through the bricks of the roof.

"What? Was it something I said, are you okay? Oh my god did I emotionally break you?"

My dry sob turned into a laugh, and I shook my head. I raised a hand to assure him I was okay, shaking my head still in disbelief.

"No, no I'm fine. Hah. You actually said… said some really good shit there, webs. Listen, it's been a blast beating up baddies with you, but it's getting late and I have a secret identity to keep. We should do this again sometime though."

"Uh yeah, totally!" He agreed easily, Harper and happy since he was reassured that he hadn't hurt me in any way with his little speech. "But, how will you find me?"

"I got my ways, don't worry about it," I said with a grin, standing up and stretching my arms. "See ya later, Arachnerd," I waved and jumped off the building. With my hearing aids on and turned up to try and make up for my vision thing, I was just barely able to catch him saying: _why can't villains make up smart puns like that?_

Grinning, I ran off towards home. If I took a few extra twists and turns to make sure nobody was following me, well, nobody had to know.

Peter hadn't even realized that Steve had been shadowing us for the last hour of our joint patrol, but I had. The fact that it was somebody he trusted must have kept his Spidey-sense from going off. If Steve did somehow end up tracking me anyway, well, I could only hope the Assassin Trio could cover my ass.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed easily. Steve had been unable to follow Hebi home, instead prioritizing making his presence known to his adopted nephew and gently scolding him for being so friendly with a known violent vigilante.

It sparked a three-day debate between the two over what constituted a "violent vigilante," and whether or not Boa fell into that category.

Peter won.

Tony threw a mini funeral (read: celebration) for Captain America's ego after losing a debate with a teenager. Steve was Not Amused.

Hebi, to Peter's immense confusion and slight concern, wouldn't stop laughing for a solid five minutes after he told her about it.

"Is showing up unannounced going to be a thing for you?" Hebi asked on Saturday, her shed having already come off early that morning to her immense relief. Peter was outside her door, Tony by his side, with a wide smile and way too much energy for nine o'clock on a Saturday.

"You act like you're not awake already," he said with an eye roll, gesturing to her. She looked down at herself—she was wearing a black tank top and yoga pants, her bangs bobby-pinned back away from her face and sweat still glistening slightly over her skin. She looked back up at him, shrugging.

"You're lucky, our training usually runs an extra half hour. Call next time, that's what phones are for. I thought you'd know that considering the fact that your dad _makes them,"_ she snarked, nodding to indicate a Tony Stark with his nose in one of said phones. The man heard her, and snorted in agreement.

"He thinks you're going to avoid him if he calls ahead of time, and he thinks everyone likes surprises."

Hebi looked at her friend— who had adopted a very betrayed expression following his dad's words— with a very amused grin.

"I'm not gonna avoid you, Pete. But now you have to wait for me to change and you'll have to deal with my sweat. If you had called ahead of time I might have been able to shower first," she informed him casually, not at all apologetic. "Go ahead and come in, I'll need a few minutes."

Tony and Peter had never been inside the apartment before, so they were mildly surprised to walk in and see that there were apparently only two rooms other than the living room and kitchen area—one which was obviously the restroom, since Hebi disappeared into there with a pile of clothes in her arms, and the other Matt's bedroom. The man himself came out a moment later clearly in new clothes and fresh out of the shower— he must had finished not long before they arrived, his red hair still damp.

"Oh, uh, hey Mister Murdock," Peter spoke up, the two of them barely inside the apartment eight he door closed behind them. They were still a bit taken off guard by the size of everything, even Peter feeling like it was small. Comfortable for one person, not two. "Uh, I don't know if Hebi told you that she let us come in, it's just me and my dad—Uh, Tony, and uh—"

"Relax," The lawyer told the kid gently, grinning in amusement. "She told me, and you really don't have to be that cautious or anything. Do you want tea or something else to drink? I think we have soda. And I convinced Hebi to take a quick shower anyway, so you'll be waiting for a little while," he said, towel around his shoulders to catch the drips from his hair as he walked over to the kitchen.

"No, we're fine, thanks," Tony took over for his son. Watching the kid stammer with nerves was funny, but Tony wasn't heartless. "Mind if we sit?" At Murdock's friendly wave of assent, Stark led Peter to the sofa where they both sat down. Matthew took a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter.

"Uh, where should I put this blanket?" Peter asked nervously, holding the purple blanket he had found on the arm of the couch. Matt's lips twitched, Peter's twitchiness and energy endearing to the man.

"If you can hang it over the back of the sofa, that would be great. It's Hebi's blanket. She gave CPS an ultimatum saying that she was going to live with me or on the streets avoiding them, and nothing in between, even though we obviously don't have much space here," Matt shook his head at the memory with a grin. "So the couch is her bed. We're looking for a bigger place now that the firm is doing better, and Hebi insists on pitching in some of her money from WickedTea despite me assuring her she doesn't have to," he said easily, his patented Murdock Charm easily winning over Peter. Though, the observant teen didn't miss the similarities between his and Hebi's fathers. Both of them being naturally charming, harboring childhood trauma, they were both at ease in the public eye, and they were both apparently much more active and fit than people gave them credit for or might think.

After all, people thought that Tony didn't have to do anything but get in the suit to be Iron Man, but they overlooked how heavy a suit made entirely of metal was, or how much energy it took to maneuver in the air or _fight_ in such a heavy suit. Tony worked out just as often as any of the other avengers to keep in shape, he just didn't spar as much since there wasn't much need. Instead, he jogged or ran and trained just like anyone else would.

And obviously, as Peter looked at Matt, Hebi's father seemed to be very similar. Murdock was wearing a short sleeved shirt, which was the most causal the teen vigilante had seen the older man. Like that, he could easily make out the frankly surprising muscle on the man's arms, though the shirt and sweats were too baggy for him to see if that was a motif in the guy's body.

He had a feeling it was.

"So, training day huh?" Tony seemed to read his son's mind, his eyes briefly lingering on the lawyer's arms before going to his face. The billionaire was relaxed on the couch, as if he was a frequent visitor to the apartment. "What does that consist of?"

Matt seemed to straighten up at the subject change, grinning slightly as he sipped from a cup of water.

"We go down to a gym my old man used to fight at— he was a boxer, way back when," he told them easily, allowing himself to reminisce on the good memories for a moment. His guests both thought back to what Hebi had told them all that time ago when she had first visited the Tower, and decided to let Murdock lead the conversation in case there were bad memories best avoided. "I probably shouldn't like going there so much. Boxing is what got him killed," Matt turned his face down to his cup of water. "But it's comfortable. One of the few places I can still vaguely remember the appearance of, you know? Anyway, Hebi helps me out with a pretty standard routine. We use the punching bags, do a little weight training. My old man never wanted me to be a fighter, but now it's one of the few things that grounds me. I'm just lucky Hebi's there to keep me from falling on my face," he grinned up at Tony and Peter, who honestly hadn't been expecting the other man to share so much.

Maybe if they knew that everything that was said was common knowledge and that Matt hadn't even scratched the surface of his past or relationship with fighting, they would have realized that Matt had actually shared deceptively little.

But they didn't.

Small talk like that continued until Hebi came out fifteen minutes later, fully dressed and rubbing a towel on her head. With such short hair, it would dry in no time. So, she just hung the towel back up, raked her fingers through her bangs, and nodded.

"Ready to go. What about you guys?"

Tony stood up, and walked over to shake Murdock's hand and thank him for being hospitable (What? Tony Stark could be _polite?_ Yeah. It was rare but yeah). Peter jumped up to walk over to his friend, and a minute later they were all piled in Tony's far too flashy Arc-run car and headed to the nearest party store that sold Halloween costumes and decorations.

When they got there, Tony didn't get out. Instead he turned around in the driver's seat to look at the two teens. "It would attract way too much attention if I went in with you, sorry kiddies," he apologized briskly, not sounding actually sorry despite Peter being able to read him well enough to tell that he actually _was_ a bit regretful that he couldn't do something so normal with them. "You both have my number. Call me when you're about done, and I'll come pick you up. You got your card, right Pete?" At the teen's nod, Tony smirked. "Good. Get whatever you want, just make sure it'll fit in the trunk. I expect you to get prank material, Clint needs to be taught a lesson."

Hebi looked over at Peter with a raised eyebrow, and he snorted.

"Prank war. Started on Monday. It's Tony, me, Bruce, and Nat against Sam, Steve, Clint, and Wanda. Bucky and Vision are the referees, Rhodey is the disappointed mom."

"And Clint set off a flour bomb in the lab yesterday when me, Bruce, and Pete were all inside, so we need payback."

"Can I be the wildcard?" Hebi asked, smirking. Mischief was always fun. Tony thought about the whole ant-robot-and-pudding-projectile mess with Scott, and immediately nodded. He could use Hebi's expertise. "Then I'm in. Hawkbutt won't know what hit him. Also, if he, Sam, and Steve are ever in the living room together you should retreat to the kitchen and tell Friday to activate my If I'm Bored trap. You won't be disappointed."

"When do you even find the time to get Friday to do these things?" The billionaire asked, fighting an amused smile as Hebi's and Peter got it do the car. Hebi has been coming over fairly often, but he had never noticed her messing with Friday. He didn't worry about it though since Friday was virtually unhackable and therefore Hebi couldn't do anything truly damaging.

"Sorry, can't give away my secrets. Thanks for taking us here by the way, Stark," she thanked, getting a dismissive wave in return before Tony took off.

That left Peter and Hebi omg room of the costume store, staring at the rest of the mob filling the store to get their last minute costumes.

"... Race you inside," Peter said casually.

"You're on."

Peter won. Hebi blamed spider genes.

Once they caught their breaths (A.K.A: pretended to be winded in case anyone had been watching), they lifted their heads to see what could only be described as an otherworldly creature. It had a million limbs and was roaring with unmatched anger and fero—

Oh, it was just over a hundred people gathered around the costume aisles pushing and fighting over the last good items left.

That was more manageable.

The two teenagers watched with raised eyebrows and morbid curiosity as two old men wrestled over a Grim Reaper costume for their grandson, who was probably the little boy elbow deep in one of the candy buckets, shoving tootsie rolls and starbursts in his mouth.

"Technically that's stealing," Hebi remarked lazily, still a bit bemused by the whole scene. "Should we stop him?"

"Nah, it looks like an employee is already headed over," her friend answered, nodding towards the really annoyed looking twenty-something-year-old woman who was marching towards the candy thief.

"Can I please just be you for Halloween? The supply isles aren't nearly as packed, let's get some prank stuff and go eat froyo next door."

Peter mulled this over for a minute, watching the mob at the costume isles with a considering gaze before sighing. "Yeah I guess, we won't get anything good with how that crowd is acting. But if someone asks how you got something so accurate, _you_ have to come up with a believable lie," he pointed out, which only got a shrug.

"I'm friends wi—" the fight with Hank came back to mind, and she trailed off. "Well… I haven't sorted things out with Hank yet, but I can still just say that we're friends and he humored me. No big deal," she shrugged. Even though Peter could see the pain in her eyes, he didn't voice it. Instead he grabbed the girl by the wrist and dragged her towards the Halloween supply isles. The makeup was mostly cleaned out, but there were still enough tubes of liquid face paint and other assorted things for the two prank masterminds to go crazy with. They also raided the ghost-town-like birthday isles for confetti and glitter and other necessary items.

It might have gotten a few odd looks from the harried-looking man at the checkout counter, but the teens were pleased with their haul all the same, and carried their plentiful bounty to the frozen yogurt restaurant nextdoor.

"So, you never did tell me who you're going as for Halloween anyway," Hebi reminded her friend as they sat with their respective mountains of frozen yogurt. Hebi had black cherry, cookies and cream, vanilla, cheesecake, and blueberry. The last one reminded her of exactly seven days earlier, when she— as Boa— patrolled with Spider-Man while eating blueberry ice cream. She smiled at the memory, savoring her first spoonful of the blue froyo as she listened to Peter's answer.

"So, I managed to convince everyone to make Halloween a whole Avengers thing this year. It's one of the few days that we can all get away with going out together without people recognizing them," he started out, digging his spoon into the strawberry frozen yogurt in his bowl. "Since we're all going out together, we decided on splitting into pairs to wear matching costumes. Wanda and I are the youngest— Vision is technically only six years old but he doesn't count—, so we paired off together. We decided on going as Batman and Poison Ivy, since Wanda didn't want to wear a wig or anything, and I wanted to make jokes about billionaire heroes to get on Dad's nerves. Dad and Steve are…" he continued to explain everyone's costume plans, and Hebi was content to just listen as she ate her frozen desert.

It was nice, just sitting there like a normal kid and listening to Peter ramble. It felt as if her past so far away, despite knowing the truth that it was closer and more dangerous than ever with Tian on the loose.

"Oh! You got blueberry too?" Peter's voice pulled her out of her sudden reminiscing, making her look down to see a thick section of blue in Peter's bowl of frozen yogurt. She blinked for a moment as realization sunk in, which Peter thankfully didn't notice. "I got a craving for it. I didn't tell you about what happened with Boa last week, did I? She totally teased me with her stupid blueberry ice cream, so I couldn't get it out of my mind all week. This isn't exactly the same, but it's close enough for me. Okay, so there I was, on patrol like normal…"

Hebi smiled and leaned back in her chair as she listened to him recap the day she still remembered vividly despite the lack of sight at the time.

Yeah. She knew her past was looking over her like the boogieman but for now, just for now, she could relax and ignore it and imagine she was normal. She'd deal with the storm when it hit.

—*—*—*—*—*

**Oh my god writer's block, whyyyyy? It took way too long to write this, and it doesn't feel right for some reason… I'm so sorry if the quality is off from normal! I made it extra long to apologize for the wait. Should be back to a shorter update after this, because I guess angst is easier for me to write..?**

**I feel like that says a lot about me, and I'm not sure it's good .**

**Anyway, thank you so so much if you've stuck around this long, you guys are amazing. I live off of your comments, so never be afraid to talk to me there! And as always—**

**See you next chapter!~**


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and angst are like peanut butter and jelly. Or Ham and cheese. One is soothing and the other is often tangy and knocks right on your tastebuds screaming; “I’M HERE BITCHES!”
> 
> In the best of ways, of course.

"The irony is almost too much for me to handle," Matt remarked, looking equal parts disappointed parent and highly amused troll. He couldn't even see what was actually happening like Foggy could— and said blonde was wheezing on the ground from laughter so intense that it had long since went silent.

"It is kind of ridiculous," Karen agreed, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. "Not only do you have _two_ vigilante personas, but you're going trick-or-treating with a veritable family of superheroes… while dressed as yet another vigilante," she perfectly summed up what was happening as I stood in the living room wearing the suit Peter had reluctantly forked over during lunch. He had a few backups just in case anything happened and he actually had to _be_ Spider-man, but still. Relinquishing his primary suit to me was still a massive show of trust… and apparently a source of embarrassment, if his red face had been anything to go by.

Then again, blushing seemed to be an inseparable part of him at times so maybe there wasn't really anything deeper behind it.

So. In other words, I was in my living room dressed as Spider-Man. Minus the mask, which was in my hand.

"It is—" Foggy started, wheezing with another laugh, "oh my _god—hahaha—_ it fits you perfectly!" Matt had to bend over to help lift Foggy off the ground and up into a proper standing position.

"Oh calm down," I chided jokingly, chuckling. "Halloween wouldn't be Halloween without a few tricks and jokes. Even if not very many people notice it," I pointed out. I swung my arms, feeling the stretch of the admittedly skin tight material against the limbs. The Boa costume was flexible, but definitely more bulky and obviouvesly armored. It wasn't made with the same metals as th e Spider-Man suit, making it more stiff than the red, body-hugging thing that Peter wore. 

He assured me that Tony had it washed beforehand, which I could attest to from the distinct lack of sweat smell in the clothing, so there was nothing to worry about hygiene wise. It was just… well, _form fitting_.

Nobody would mistake me for Spider- _man_ at least

Good thing self consciousness regarding my body _wasn't_ one of my plethora of personal issues. I posed in the bathroom mirror, with the door wide open so that my three family figures could laugh at me unashamedly (though, honestly, Matt would have noticed my posing even through a solid wall and laughed anyway). I had just finished practicing the hand movement Peter shot his webs with when my phone started vibrating on the table, the lyrics to _Unstoppable_ by Sia starting to blast through the speaker. I ran out to the living room to snatch the device up from the coffee table, answering it.

"Yo!" I answered cheerfully.

"Oh my god, I am going to pretend you didn't just answer the phone with 'yo,'" Tony Stark groaned over the other side of the phone. "We're outside your building, kid."

"Tell me you aren't in a limo," I pleaded, grabbing my candy bag and slipping on shoes (the suit didn't actually need any, but we needed to pretend it was fake so. Shoes).

"Oh please," Tony scoffed. "I'm not _that_ bad. And besides, we're trying to lay low today."

"Be right out," I assured him before hanging up, and looking to the trio watching me. I plopped the Spider-man mask onto my head, but didn't pull it down yet. "I'll call you when we're headed back. I'll be with the _avengers_ , so don't you dare worry about me," I told Matt sternly, going in for a hug. He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me briefly before letting go. "And _you two,"_ I spun to Foggy and Karen, who both comically snapped to attention. "Take this idiot out to a party or something, he hardly ever lets himself have fun," I instructed with a grin, ignoring Matt's protest behind me. "But don't get him drunk, because knowing him he'll still want to patrol later and level of inebriation will not deter him."

"He's a stubborn ass like that," Foggy agreed cheerily. "Now go before they tired of waiting. Have fun!" Foggy called after me as I jogged to the door, and I answered with a wave as Karen and Matt echoed his well wishing.

Outside the building, I grinned at the Arc-run car in front of me, sliding down the mask over my face before tugging the door open and sliding in. It was too big for everyone, which meant the others were probably in other cars and going to meet us at… wherever it was we were going trick or treating. As suspected, I slid right into Peter's side.

"Well hello there, random citizen," I greeted in a dramatically deep voice, making Peter laugh and put his head in his hands. I closed the car door behind me. "Remember to always buckle up, young man! And—"

"Okay, okay stop!" Peter begged through his laughs. "You're starting to sound like one of Uncle Steve's PSAs," he complained with a chuckle.

Also in the car was Tony, who was driving, Rhodey in the passenger's seat, and Wanda. I had never really spoken to the other girl before, so I was planning of making the most of my chance to speak to another female badass. I leaned forward, taking off the mask to look over at her. Her long red hair was fluffed out and slightly curled to mimic Poison Ivy's, and she was wearing what looked like a custom made costume that was much more modest than most Ivy costumes. It was a strapless green unitard with darker green spandex shorts peeking through the bottom, and a gauzy tail of the same darker green fanning out behind her. There were, of course, very intricate ivy detailing over the unitard and she was wearing very well made green boots with ivy and small red flowers sewed onto them. It was classy, but undeniably Poison Ivy.

Meanwhile, Peter was very classic. Standard higher-end costume store Batman's costume, with slightly cartoony padded chest and hard plastic "cowl" to cover the face. It was very geeky, which was perfect for who was wearing it.

And _Tony_.

Oh boy.

"Does Strange know you copied his costume?" I asked, trailing my eyes over the very convincing knockoff of the Cloak of Levitation. Stark just grinned, which was really all the answer I needed.

"I told Steve we were going to go as wizards. Steve assumed I meant Harry Potter characters," Tony admitted as he started driving off. "I never corrected him. Now he's wearing a bad wig dressed as Harry, and I don't have to try to adjust my facial hair."

Of fucking _course_ he'd choose the costume just because of the facial hair. Why did I expect any different? And then I blinked, a smile slowly tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Is that… a _compliment_ towards Strange?" I asked impishly, and Tony huffed.

"Of course not."

"Uh huh," I agreed, trading a glance with Wanda and Peter that said that neither of us believed him for a second. "You totally complimented his goatee by choosing to dress as him."

"No I—"

"Don't deny it dad," Peter pitched in. Rhodey laughed.

"Yeah, don't deny it Tones," Stark's oldest friend chided, gently elbowing the billionaire. Said military officer was also dressed up, and _rocking_ his disco suit. It was shiny and obnoxious and perfect, especially for a guy most would expect to be super serious— I mean, the guy was _Tony Stark's_ best friend since _college_. Obviously he'd have to be able to be wacky and not care too much about his dignity at times.

"Who are you paired up with, colonel Rhodes?" I asked. To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure myself why I instinctively used his rank when addressing him. I knew he was casual and laid back and would—

"You can call me Rhodey, I've told you that already," he said easily, turning back to smile at me.

—prefer me to use his nickname. There was just something about him being military that made me want to show him extra respect. I had a feeling it might be linked to a suppressed memory of some sort though, so I carefully kept my face blank of my inner confusion. I wouldn't pry into that, not on Halloween. It was time to have some fun, not worry about the things I had forcefully forgotten from childhood.

"And I'm paired with Nat. She was pretty excited to do disco, but don't tell her I told you that. I like all of my body parts exactly where they are."

I nodded. "Secret's safe with me," I assured, holding up one hand in a pseudo pledge position. "Fake Spider-Man's honor."

"Yeah, I don't know how far to trust that," the man admitted with a grin. I just shrugged, earning a chuckle from everyone.

"Alright kiddies, here we are. Full sized candy bars await," Tony announced, parking on the side of the street in a pretty expensive neighborhood. I shook my head, not surprised he chose to bring us to a neighborhood like that.

It was Tony, after all.

"Remember, Wednesday's a school night so no booze and we have to be back in the car by eleven so the infants can go to bed," Peter and I instantly protested being called infants, but we were ignored. "Oh look, everyone else is here. Let's go!"

Five minutes later, and I was pretty sure I was seeing double. All the Avengers were grouped together as they worked out a strategy for the optimal candy haul, but I was faced down the street as a _creepily_ familiar suit, goatee, and swagger walked towards us.

"Uh…" it wasn't until the man got closer that I suddenly realized what was happening, and had to cover my mouth to avoid breaking out in sudden laughter. "Oh my god," I breathed. "Steve! You don't have a costume partner anymore!"

The blond in the bad wig turned towards me, confused for a second. That is, until he saw what I did, and started laughing. That brought Tony's attention to the scene, because he had to know what was distracting Cap from planning the route. And then he saw what the rest of us had started to notice, and his grin was nearly large enough to break his face in half.

Oh. Oh my god, the night was suddenly filled with far more ego than I feared any of us would survive.

"I thought you would know better than to think you could get away with dressing as me, Stark," Strange drawled easily when he pulled up to us, dressed in an absolutely _flawless_ Tony Stark costume. I wasn't even sure it was a costume, it looked like he stole that suit from Tony's closet. Even the watch and sunglasses were perfect.

"Am I dead?" I asked Peter out of the corner of my mouth, mask in my hand.

"I don't know, but I'm suffocating under this much ego and perfect facial hair power," he whispered back, the both of us instantly giggling like stereotypical schoolgirls. "By the way, Ned and MJ are coming with us. I already told them where to come."

I had actually just picked up on those two familiar scents when he said that, so I just nodded, smiling, as those two figures walked up the street towards us.

"Wouldn't be trick or treating without the ones who will actually get the candy," I remarked, knowing that despite all the planning the adults were doing they wouldn't get any sweet treats of their own. MJ gave me a fist bump as she walked up in her seventies tie-dye hipster costume, and Ned and Peter did their own secret handshake next to us, Ned in— to nobody's surprise— the latest Iron Man costume.

"Stooop," I moaned in despair, looking over at my friend. "Tony's levels of narcissism are already dangerously high, why did you have to make it worse?"

"Ohmygod I'm trick or treating with the Avengers…" he completely ignored me. It seemed like even the Avengers Exposure Therapy couldn't numb him to the surreality of going door to door for free candy with them.

We spent the first hour just chatting as we walked around getting candy, our bags gradually getting heavier. We were definitely a bit older on the spectrum of kids out trick or treating, but it wasn't op bad. There were other teenagers out enjoying the night, so we didn't really stick out. The amount of compliments I got for my costume, which I wore the mask the majority of the time since I loved hearing Peter's AI comment on things (and it was always best to keep the illusion complete at all times) was frankly flattering and confidence boosting as hell.

"What do you usually do after school, Hebi?" Wanda asked, sticking with the rest of us younger folk as we walked. I smiled at her despite it being hidden by the mask.

"Homework," I deadpanned, making Peter, MJ, and Ned laugh.

Midtown's workload was no joke, but we all suffered it so we deserved a laugh at it every now and then dammit.

"I also put together orders for my online tea business, WickedTea. Plus my dad and I like to just hang out, sometimes we'll go out with his best friends for dinner or something."

"But do you have any hobbies?" She asked, seeming to be genuinely curious. I shrugged, obviously not able to tell her about my whole Boa thing.

"Sure I do. Making new teas is really calming, but I also like fighting— as if that wasn't obvious. I train with my dad every Saturday. And dancing, but," I rubbed the back of my costumed neck. "Contortion and dancing were the things I did to earn a living back when I was homeless, so I don't really feel much of a need to do them all the time anymore. I'll still occasionally get bored and start putting together a random routine, but it isn't super often. I like reading, though."

"Oh hey, look at that," Clint spoke up, nodding his head to the large front yard of one of the houses on the street. He and Bucky were paired together and, since they were lazy, were both dressed as stereotypical vampires. It seemed like the house he had pointed out was hosting an open costume contest, and they were playing loud music. The ring of contestants waiting to be judged were dancing to fill the time, and I pulled up the mask of my costume a bit so that Peter could see my predatory smile.

I could see him pale even from behind his Batman mask.

"I guess let's turn this into a costume _dance_ competition! Anyone wanna step up?" A guy, probably one of the people who lived in the massive house, spoke over a microphone. I slowly pulled the mask back down, everyone in our group suddenly focused on me. I'm pretty sure I was radiating mischief at that point.

Peter lunged forward, trying to grab my arm before I could move but he was too slow.

"Hell yeah!" I cheered, jumping forward and front flipping over to the costumed dancers, right as _Wildcard_ by KSHMR was played. I'm pretty sure it was just for me.

I could sense Peter's face palm from behind me, the weight of everyone's stares heavy on me.

_I come around the turn and people stop and stare_

Karen was already ordered not to make any changes to the mask's eyes, so that it was more believable that the costume was a copy. Therefore, the wink I gave the crowd was entirely missed but I didn't care. I hadn't danced in front of a crowd for a while, and it was different than presenting in front of a class. I always knew nobody would remember a faceless street performer when I was homeless, so I was safe, and I was in a mask that time so I was even more protected than before.

I began cranking out my best moves, mixing hip hop and ballet and the occasional flips into the routine. I made sure not to do anything too wild, I didn't want to stand out _too_ much, but I still let myself have fun as I spun and blew everyone else out of the water. At one point someone yelled at me to do a backflip, which was a classic Spider-Man request that flew over exactly nobody's head. I laughed, but did exactly that.

My perfect landing was greeting by a huge roar of appreciation. I finished off with a sassy turn and snap, making sure to pose as sassily as I could—jutted hip and all. The laughs and cheers and whistles that followed were very satisfying, the Avengers adding their own support with some of the loudest cheers of the crowd.

"Spider-Girl!" Someone yelled, which actually started up a chant of Spider-Girl. It made me laugh loudly, bending over in shock even as I walked over to my group again. Bucky ruffled my head, considering my hair was under the mask. Rhodey gave me a hearty clap over the shoulder, and Peter, Ned, MJ, and Wanda swarmed forward to tell me what they thought of my little performance.

"You are so going to be a YouTube sensation now," MJ warned me, smirking. "Pretty much everyone had their phones out filming that."

"Alright alright," Tony was smiling widely, but ushered our group forward. "Let's—"

"Oh, wait!" The guy who had been on the microphone before ran forward, holding out a bag of candy. "Spider-girl! We had to give you some kind of prize for that awesome dance, so here's your trophy. Have a Happy Halloween everyone!"

I slowly took the bag of candy, peeking into it to see full sized chocolate bars filling it up. I gasped, looking up at everyone in surprise.

"Oh my god," I breathed. "Thank you so much!"

The guy shrugged off my thanks, jogging back to start up the normal costume contest again as we walked off. I carefully put my new bag into my candy bag on top of the rest of my haul, feeling pretty damn good.

That was, until I suddenly recognized the neighborhood we were in and froze a few blocks away from the Contest house.

"Oh my god," I said slowly, turning to Tony who had chosen the neighborhood. He wasn't meeting my gaze, pretending to be showing Rhodey and Strange something on his phone. "This whole thing was a set up!"

"Now, Hebi," Rhodey was the one that spoke up, holding his hands up in mock surrender. The unsurprised, chagrined looks everyone had told me that they all knew what was happening. "It wasn't a set up. We wanted to go to a rich neighborhood for the best candy, and this one just so happened to fulfill two needs at the same time. Convenience, we swear."

"Unbelievable," I shook my head. "You guys planned this the whole goddamned time."

I didn't really know how to feel, looking around to see if I could cross the street and get away from that train wreck before it began. Unfortunately, my luck decided to screw me over.

"Hey! Is that Hebi? I'm guessing that's Hebi," Scott's voice cut through the general noise of the street as he made his way over, holding the hand of a little girl. "Hank helped me convince my ex to let my daughter fly up here for Halloween. I only have her for another hour before she has to go on Hank's plane to fly back to California, so you should come say hi!"

Oh. My. God.

 _Everyone_ was in on it.

"I know you can't see it," I said monotonously to the whole group behind me. "But I am very annoyed right now."

I forced my voice to be cheery the next second though as I walked forward and crouched by the little girl, who I soon learned was Scott's daughter Cassie, and talked to her as if I was super happy and not at all annoyed at my friend's meddling.

"Come on, come meet uncle Hank!" Cassie yelled happily, handing her fairy wand off to her dad so she could grab my wrist in both of her tiny hands and tug me off towards Hank's house. Which was _right there,_ the building that had tipped me off to all of the Avengers and my best friends having set up this route in order to force me to talk to Hank.

They had even got the little girl roped in on their evil plan.

Suddenly I realized how damn lucky the world was that the Avengers were actually all good guys. Because if they were villains… the world would have already been won over.

It was kinda scary how powerful they all were.

I let the little fairy-dressed girl drag me to the house I had been avoiding since the argument more than two weeks earlier. When she wasted no time storming in I had to accept that I would not escape, and sighed in despair.

Sure enough, Cassie led me right up to Hank. He had a cat ear headband shoved on his head, likely against his will, as he read a book next to a bowl of candy. Scott's daughter wasted no time shoving me over to him.

"Daddy said you fought and have to make up now, so bye!" She admitted with a large smile before running out of the house and slamming the door behind her tiny form.

Leaving me alone with Hank.

I was _so_ pranking all of them in revenge for this crap.

Hank has put down his book when he noticed me, his sharp old man mind not needing very much time to deduce who it was wearing the Spider-Man costume in his living room in front of him. I removed the mask anyway, shifting from foot to foot.

"Umm…"

"I'm sorry," Hank said without any beating around the bush, making my head shoot up and my eyes widen. I hadn't expected him to give in that quickly. "I know it was shitty of me to say those things, and I realize I don't actually know much about your past. I didn't have any right to say those things," he looked away, one hand tapping his fingers against the wooden arm of his chair. "I guess I'm still a bit old fashioned. It's hard for me to imagine a kid actually having seen or experienced more than me. But you're a good kid, you've saved my life and always come to me if you've heard information you think I need to know. You've looked out for me even before we knew each other well, I shouldn't have been harsh about you wanting to keep a secret."

"You had a point," I argued gently, running a hand through my bangs. "I shouldn't hide things from Pete, but there's a reason behind my madness. You have to know that," I pleaded with him, meeting his eyes evenly. "If you knew everything, you'd understand."

"Then tell me," he leaned forward. "Keeping things to yourself isn't healthy, I should know."

I chuckled pitifully, shaking my head. "Not yet," I whispered. "I've forgiven what you said a long time ago, but that's not the issue. The way I reacted… that wasn't cool," I admitted. "I didn't think I would react like that, but it seems like my past had a bit of a harsher hold on me than I thought. You don't have to worry so much though, Natasha, Bucky, and Clint know. They help me whenever they can," I assured him with a lopsided smile. "And my dad knows too. I'm just… I'll tell you when I have things under control a bit better, okay? I'm just not ready yet."

Hank sighed, running a hand through his hair before gesturing for me to come closer. "Say trick or treat so I can give you candy already then, you brat," he said kindly, reaching into the candy bowl at his side. "And go have fun. I expect you to show up here over the weekend so I can do maintenance on your tech though, you've been avoiding me long enough that I'm worried your reckless butt has already messed something up."

I smiled widely; things with Hank would be okay. That was good. Maybe things were looking up.

—*—*—*—*—*

It wasn't until the week after Halloween that things started to take a turn. Or more accurately, that anybody _noticed_ anything was wrong. Hebi had barely texted or called Peter, Ned, or MJ over the weekend. That was normal for her periods of "light sensitivity," since she said the light from phone screens annoyed her during it. But… that wasn't the issue. The three of her friends knew that her light sensitivity never came back super soon, it was still at least a week away from when it was likely to resurface.

So… the fact that she hardly responded to them at all was a little concerning. Still, they shrugged it off. Maybe she was just tired or she got sick or something—they had had a group call in order to reassure one another and make plans to ask her if she was okay on Monday.

Sure enough, the first Monday after Halloween came and Hebi wasn't wearing her glasses.

She wasn't making eye contact, either.

Peter frowned, trading a glance with Michelle as the four of them walked together to their English class. Hebi had a habit of zoning out, yeah, but she would always respond when spoken to and it wasn't hard at all to get her involved in a conversation.

"So I'm gonna blow up Chicago tomorrow and make it rain chihuahuas," MJ drawled. "What do you think, Hebi?"

"Sounds fun," she agreed monotonously, clearly not having actually paid an ounce of attention to the words being spoken. That was when the three knew something was up for sure, and that it had to be big. Making an outrageous claim was their trump card for getting Hebi's attention during her zone outs, it never failed. Even when her hearing aids were off and she seemed to be a bit worse off than usual audibly, she still always picked up on it when they said something stupid or ridiculous to get her attention.

But the three watched as Hebi just went straight to her desk in English without even waiting for them, pulling out her supplies for class and proceeding to stare off at the blank wall like a robot.

It was the most unnerving they had ever seen their Asian friend act.

"You gotta talk to her, man," Ned whispered, the three of them standing just to the side of the door to have a mini conference about their new friend crisis.

"Why me?" The lithe boy asked, eyes wide. "You're the one that always makes her laugh, and MJ's her partner in crime. We should all work together."

"No," MJ disagreed, frowning and with her arms crossed over her chest. "If she's going through something, trying to approach her as a group could be counterproductive. You're the one she spends the most time with, you know her the best. She still twitches whenever Ned or I even touch her shoulder," the girl pointed out. "But she never blinks when you do, or when you put your arm around her. You have the best shot at getting her to open up."

Peter frowned, looking away from his two friends to look over at Hebi worriedly. She was as still as the wall she was staring at, but her eyes weren't as blank as she seemed to think. Even from across the room Peter could hear her heart thumping faster than normal. Not fast enough for her to be in a panic attack or nervous or scared, but definitely quick enough for some concern. She was probably worried about something. And her eyes were dull but the bags were deep underneath them, and there was still some red there as if she had been crying. Had she gotten any sleep recently?

He ran a hand through his hair. "Okay," he agreed softly. "I'll try, but she's a private person. If she doesn't want to talk, she won't and there won't be anything we can do about it."

"So, what?" Ned asked, sounding angry and hopeless. "We just let her go through whatever it is that's going on and pretend everything is normal?"

"If that's all we can do," MJ confirmed sadly. "Forcing her won't help anything. Normality might, though."

"Let's just… let's just go one step at a time," Peter told them. "Let me try talking to her. Maybe she won't mind telling me something."

Worried, they all went to sit down in their usual spots. Peter waited until the room was mostly full and nobody would easily be drawn to look at him or Hebi. "Hey," he started softly, leaning towards her. She didn't react, so she slowly reached out to touch her arm.

Her reaction was sudden— she pulled away as if she had been electrocuted, eyes wild with panic and she spun to look at him and… and then she called down. Once she saw his face and put together what had happened, a whoosh off air left her lungs in one fluid motion, and she sunk down into her seat looking embarrassed.

"Are… are you okay?" Peter tried, frowning at her concerning actions. "No, that's a stupid question, obviously you aren't. Hebi… is there anything I can do to help?" She wouldn't meet his eyes. "You can talk, if you just need someone to listen."

The girl's arms curled around herself—defensive posture, Peter's mind supplied. A subconscious action the body took to protect itself when it felt helpless, especially in emotional situations.

Peter was just getting more worried.

"I'm fine," Hebi lied. Peter could see through it clear as day, even if he wasn't good enough at reading heartbeats to tell a lie from the truth. It was just so _obvious_ that she was anything _but_ "fine."

"Hebi…"

"No, really," she tried, turning to give him a shaky smile. It solidified after a second, actually turning convincing. Peter just got more concerned. "I just haven't been getting very good sleep, that's all. I'm a bit stressed with both Physics and Chem, and then that calculus test coming up is a bitch. I'll be better before you know it, trust me."

He didn't.

With most things, yeah. He trusted Hebi with his life, with his suit and his identity, with his embarrassment. But he did not trust her to be truthful about her health, because he was watching her lie to his face.

Briefly, he wondered what else she had lied about to his face if she was able to be that convincing about it. He figured that was a can of worms to open some other time.

He just wanted his friend Hebi back. The one that had danced in the Spider-Man suit on Halloween and become a meme on YouTube as Spider-Girl. The sassy, strong, stubborn young woman that told off Flash eloquently without any effort. The girl whose first demand after figuring out his hero identity was to be his backup.

Seeing her so vulnerable felt wrong.

"If you say so," he reluctantly agreed out loud as the teacher started class. "But I'm here to help okay? I mean it."

"I know, Super Nerd," she assured him softly, just barely unable to keep the wobble from her voice. "And I promise, I'll come to you if I need to."

Knowing he couldn't do anything else, Peter just nodded and resolved himself to keep an eye out for her.

—*—*—*—*—*

" _Sir, there is a Karen Page in the lobby asking to see you. She has Hebi with her, she is currently unconscious,_ " Friday informed Tony, and the entire living room in Avengers Tower by consequence. Currently there was Wanda, Steve, Clint, Rhodey, and Peter along with the owner of the Tower himself. They all stood up immediately at the news.

It was Tuesday night, and Peter couldn't help but be worried. Hebi had not changed much at all since he had seen her Monday morning, only putting more effort into trying to seem normal. It didn't work.

"Why the hell is someone coming here with an _unconscious_ teenager?" Tony demanded first, straightening his shirt instinctually as he headed to the elevator. Everyone else, concerned for the young girl, followed.

"Friday, is she injured?" Steve asked as they all filed into the metal box.

" _No sir, it appears she has been sedated. I am detecting small amounts of sedatives in her system, meaning they have taken her slow metabolism into account and she should be waking soon."_

That didn't satisfy any of them, if anything the faces of everyone present just got grimmer. Who the hell had the audacity to sedate Hebi? And why would they come straight to the Avengers afterward?

"Does the woman have backup?" Clint asked. "What are we looking at here? Armed thugs, a ransom, what can you tell us Friday?"

" _It seems there is only the one Karen Page, Mister Barton. There is nobody else in the lobby aside from the secretary on duty. My scans also show that nobody is outside in the immediate vicinity."_

"Obviously," Tony muttered, trying to figure out what was going on. "It's almost midnight, most of the staff is already home for the day."

Peter himself had a strict midnight bedtime during the week, so he had just been about to be sent to bed when they had gotten the notification. He was pretty sure that, whatever it was that was going on, he wasn't going to get to sleep as usual.

The elevator door opened, and the six heroes walked out to see what looked like a normal, stressed blond woman. She actually resembled Pepper quite a bit, from her appearance to the way she held herself to the way she was even dressed. She had on business casual even that late at night, though it was clearly rumpled as if she had been sitting or laying down in that outfit for a while.

The woman perked up when she saw them, relief crashing over her features. That immediately confused them— wasn't Hebi in danger? Why else would a stranger bring her there unconscious and sedated?

"Karen Page?" Tony asked, persona on and walls up as he approached her. Hebi was laid out on one of the lobby sofas right behind Page. "Can I ask what the hell you are doing here with a family friend at half past," he pretended to check his watch, "the middle of the goddamn night? And who sedates a fifteen year old? That seems like a new low to me."

Karen straightened her back, eyes hardening with determination. She stepped forward, holding out her hand stubbornly. "Yes, I'm Karen Page. Nice to meet you too," the sass in her tone definitely reminded Tony of Pepper. He shook her hand. "I'm Matt's Secretary, and a close friend of his, so don't you dare accuse me of endangering Hebi in any way, _sir,"_ she took a deep breath, but when she let it out her face seemed to age and the lines in her forehead deepened. "Hebi's like a little sister to me. But… sedating her was the only way to get her out of the house, I was hoping she could stay here for a few days," Karen turned her head to look at said sleeping girl. "Can we… can we just get her into a bed first, and I can explain? She's going to wake up any minute now and I don't want to be within striking range."

Clint walked up immediately, grabbing Karen by the upper arm and pulling her to the side. The two exchanged quick words where he others couldn't hear for a moment. Whatever answer he archer got made him relax, and he came back to the group with a tired smile.

"I'll take her up. You guys can show Miss Page up to the living room or something and figure out what's going on," he said softly before walking over to lift the teen into his arms. She didn't weigh much, not that he expected her to with her small stature, but her muscle mass added enough heft for him to spend a second adjusting her in his arms before he took her into the elevator and headed up to set her into a guest room.

Ten minutes later, he joined everyone else in the living room. Karen had been sat at the kitchen counter and was clutching a hot cup of tea in her hands. She took a sip, looking up when he walked in.

"Okay, everyone's here," Steve said, meaning everyone who had been present during the call. If the rest of the team had to be notified, they would be, but it was late and he didn't want to wake them up if it turned out being nothing serious. "So what's going on? Why did you have to sedate Hebi, and why do you want her to stay here? Does Murdock know you brought her here?"

Karen sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand as the other set her cup down.

"That's the issue," she admitted slowly. "Matt was… he was mugged on Friday, but he's fine!" She rushed to assure them. "He got away, no problem. Hebi wasn't that far behind and helped knock the guy out. But Matt got stabbed in the arm, which wouldn't normally be an issue, but the wound got infected," Karen's hands started to tremble, so she took a minute to take another sip of tea. It was one of Hebi's blends, which really shouldn't have calmed the woman down as much as it did.

"And..?" Rhodey prodded gently. "You guys have medical care right?"

"Oh, yeah," Karen waved a hand dismissively. "We have a really good doctor who takes care of him, that's not the issue. The issue is that the infection also gave him a pretty bad flu, he's been out of it since Saturday. Puking, sleeping all day, chills, the whole nine yards, and that's on top of the treatment for the knife wound," Karen informed them.

"Okay…" Rhodey spoke up again slowly, eyebrows knit. "So… what's the problem? Couldn't you take her in for a few days if you don't want her getting sick?"

"That's not the problem," Karen argued, sounding annoyed and tired. Very tired. "It's just… has Hebi told you about what happened when she was six? She came home from school to find her mom's corpse and a bunch of alcohol bottles."

The room went dead silent. Tony, Peter, and Clint were not surprised since they already knew, but it was news to everyone else. For the three who had already known, the picture started to slowly come into focus.

"She's been through a lot of shit," Karen let out a slightly hysterical laugh, clearly fighting back some frustrated tears. "Way more than she deserves. Way more than anyone deserves. She's seen more than just her mom's body, which would be trauma fuel in and of itself for anybody. And she is so _close_ to Matt, he's broken down all the walls she built without even seeming to try," the blond strayed gesturing with her arms as she got more passionate. "Him getting sick like this has affected her in a way none of us expected," she slumped down onto her stool and stared into her cup of tea.

"Hebi saw Matt passed out in his bed, and something just snapped. She saw how weak he was, how he isn't tossing and turning like usual, and next thing we know she's glued to his bedside. She set up an entire _station_ next to him, with all his medicines and ten water bottles and a hot plate so she could make soup for him right there on a moment's notice— it's overboard. And when he's asleep, she just stares at his face and won't let go of his wrist. She is…" Karen's voice cracked, and she covered her mouth with one hand to hold back a sob. "She looks at him sleeping and all she can do is imagine that he's dead," she whispered. "She just sits there, repeating to herself over and over again: 'he has a pulse. He has a pulse. He has a pulse,' and it scares the _crap_ out of us. She hasn't eaten a solid meal since Saturday besides her school lunches, but she puked those up when she got home. She hasn't slept in probably that long either, unless she managed to pass out when we weren't looking. Me and Foggy— Matt's best friend and law partner— we have been over there constantly looking after _both_ of them. Foggy's taken over the couch because Hebi won't leave the stool by Matt's bed. We had to do _something."_

"Why here?" Wanda asked, leaning over and gently placing a hand on Karen's shoulder. The blond slightly relaxed, Wanda's magic gently softening her emotions and warming up her muscles so that she wasn't so tense. "Like Rhodes said, you or this Foggy person could have taken her in, no?"

"No," Karen shook her head. "Hebi's been teaching me self defense, but Foggy and I aren't fighters or athletes. I tried taking her home to get her away from Matt for a while to relax, but she literally jumped out the window. No matter how hard we try, she's stronger and faster and always goes right back to his bedside," the woman lifted up her cup, gulping down the tea. She set the empty mug down after a minute, and took a slow, steadying breath. "She should be fine once Matt's better and lucid and able to talk to her. I don't know how he does it, but he's always able to say the right thing to her. So… I figured this was my last hope. I knew she was friends with you guys, and you actually have the means to keep her here until she's being healthy again. She needs food, and maybe even a health checkup after her stupid hunger strike. Please, tell me you'll help. Please."

"Obviously," Tony remarked, but his voice was surprisingly soft. "We'll keep her here at least for a day, though I don't think she'll like being confined to the Tower…"

"You'll have to keep her home from school," Peter pitched in, sounding a lot more subdued than usual. "If you give her an inch, she'll take a mile. She'll use school as a chance to go right back home when we're not there to stop her."

"Oh, so like you?" Rhodey asked with a raised eyebrow, looking at the teen in the room with a small smirk. "How many times have we sent you off to school only for you to ditch and do something we specifically told you not to?"

Peter knew better than to answer that, rubbing the back of his neck.

A soft chuckle drew their attention back to their guest, who had watched the interaction with a soft gaze.

"You sound like Matt," she said to Peter, who blinked in surprise. "He's always been too stubborn for his own good, Foggy's told me horror stories of the two of them back in college," she admitted. Peter jotted down another similarity between his and Hebi's fathers— they both had extremely close friends that they met in college, and those friends both spread horror stories about them from said college days.

"Maybe that's why he and Hebi get along," Karen continued. "They're both way too stubborn for their own good. Never listen to common sense," she chuckled as if she was thinking of an inside joke. "Stay a friend to her, will you?" She asked Peter softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Hebi acts like nothing bothers her, but she needs you more than she lets on."

Maybe Peter should have been listing similarities between _Hebi_ and his dad instead, he realized with a frown.

"Of course," he agreed immediately. Karen relaxed and sighed.

"Thank you guys so much, really. And for the tea, too. I better head home to take over the night shift from Foggy, one of us will drop by tomorrow to check on Hebi. If that's okay?" She aimed the last question at Rony, who shrugged and nodded.

"Yeah, of course," he answered easily. "Just tell Friday—"

"Sir, I hate to interrupt," Friday spoke, stopping whatever the billionaire had been about to say. "But Hebi has just woken up and I think it is best if she is restrained. She is attempting to break down her door."

"Oh boy," Steve breathed.

"I'll get Bucky," Clint said immediately. "Pete, Wanda, see if you can't get up there and get her to calm down until I can get him up to speak to her. Tony, maybe you should give Miss Page a drive home?"

"No, no, I have a car," the woman quickly shot that offer down. "Just focus on Hebi. Please."

—*—*—*—*—*

**And I am back in the grooooove! Other than the Apology scene, which didn't turn out quite as good as I wanted, this chapter turned out pretty decent. And on time, yay! Hope you guys liked it, next chapter will be a lot of Hebi trying to deal with this new angst, and things will pick up pretty soon. Things have been going a little slowly, but I promise this is all building up to something (plot, maybe? O.o nooo waayyyyyy).**

**Again, NEVER be shy to talk to me in the comments. I love you guys and everything you have to say so much!**

**As always, thank you guys so much for reading and see you next chapter~**


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: 
> 
> Self demonization (Light-ish)  
> Kind of graphic (?) description of scars and wounds. Not much, but it’s there.  
> Unhealthy mental states and description of panic attacks.

I was in an unfamiliar room, but Clint's scent was on me so that narrowed down the options as to where I could be. Also, the general design of the room was similar to that of Pete's room at the Tower, though it was smaller and not nearly as personalized as Peter's.

Therefore, I deduced, I was likely in the Tower. And, I figured by the other scent on me, Karen had been the one to bring me.

 _That mug of tea must have been drugged,_ I thought with a grimace. Normally I might have been able to smell or taste a sedative in food or drink before I actually ingested it, but I trusted Karen and Foggy enough to not second guess anything they handed me. Plus, I was far too focused on Matt. All my energy was going towards making sure he was as comfortable as possible, so I hadn't paid any attention to myself.

I couldn't even bring myself to be annoyed. I knew they were just trying to take care of me, but I was fine. Matt was the one that needed the attention.

I peeled myself up to a sitting position in the admittedly very soft bed, blinking the last remnants of sedative-induced sleep out of my eyes.

Matt's face flashed through my mind every time I closed my eyes, as if it was tattooed on the inside of my eyelids. His eyes closed, mouth slightly open, body laying eerily still in his silk sheets. It looked too similar to the way I had found Mommy, to the way I had shot or stabbed too many people in their sleep. To the way I had poisoned Remmy way back when, in the middle of the night.

It was too similar to some of my nightmares.

His pulse was the only thing that kept me somewhat lucid, in the moment. It was the only proof I had that he was alive, because I couldn't hear his breaths and his body heat was unreliable… any moment it could drop if I didn't keep my eye on his heartbeat.

Being so far away from him was making my chest ache. Pinprick, staticky pain started up around my heart, and I soon could only gasp. I needed Matt. I needed his heartbeat. If I could feel it, my own would calm down to match it.

I needed him. He needed to be alive. I needed him.

I neededhim I neededMatt

IneededhimIneededMattIneededMattMattMattMatt

What if he died?

Nononononono.

I lunged the rest of the way out of the bed, tripping over the blanket that had twined around my ankles in my haste. I just snapped my legs apart, ripping it to free myself enough so I could run to the door.

" _Hebi, it appears you are having a panic attack. I advise you take deep—"_

"Friday, the door is locked," I interrupted the AI, not caring about the tremble in my voice as I fumbled with the doorknob that wouldn't. Move. An. Inch. "Why is it locked? What the hell is going on, Friday? I need to get to Matt!"

" _The door is locked so that you do not leave before you get your health back up to par, Hebi. It appears as though you are dehydrated and your body is starting to show signs of malnutrition—"_

"I don't give a fuck! God damn it all," I knew Foggy and Karen would get drastic eventually with trying to get me to take a break from taking care of Matt, but they didn't get it. They didn't see what I saw.

If only I had been a little faster to notice that knife on patrol, to block that strike for him…

I was Daredevil's partner for a goddamned reason, I should have been able to keep him from getting hurt like that while actually _on patrol with him_.

Inadequate. Inadequate. Weakweakweak idiotidiotidiot, you'll get him killed just like everyone else you stupid cursed demon. Idiot idiot, _idiot._

I put a hand on the door—solid metal, maybe iron? I didn't know or care. If I wanted to I could decipher the smell from beneath the paint to figure it out, but it didn't matter. It wasn't Vibranium obviously, which was the only thing I really cared about. As long as it was a common metal, I was able to break it down.

 _Don't be stupid_ , some rational side of my brain chided. _You still have an identity to hide, a past to keep from them. From Peter. You can't just warp a metal door and expect your secrets to stay secret._

I hated myself sometimes for being logical. Okay, old school then. I went to the furthest back edge of the room, positioning myself.

" _I can deduce that you are about to try ramming the door down. I have to advice aga—"_

I calculated how much strength I could get away with as being adrenaline, and rushed at the door without waiting for Friday to finish. I had already figured out by the placement of the door frame and the design that it opened outwards, otherwise ramming would be much harder or impossible. Careful to slam my shoulder as close to the opening as I could without hitting the wall, I banged all my body weight into the metal as hard as I could.

The clang from the impact was loud, echoing down the hallway outside the door. Otherwise, nothing visible seemed to happen. I grit my teeth, the pinprick feeling just getting more intense in my chest. If it went on too much longer, it would crawl up my neck and I'd pass out. I needed out.

Outoutoutoutout.

_Outoutoutoutout._

I repeated the ram two more times, the flesh on my shoulder (which was only covered by the short sleeve of my t-shirt) already undoubtedly bruised and irritated.

"Hebi," a familiar feminine, accented voice called from outside the door. "You need to take a deep breath, you are panicking."

"Shut up, Wanda! Just let me the goddamned _fucking hell_ out of this room!" I growled, running and slamming my body against the door again. That time, the wall shook slightly with the impact. Maybe I was getting somewhere. I backed up again.

"You need to take a deep breath," Peter's voice that time, sounding plaintive. "Please, you're just hurting yourself! You can get back home as soon as you're healthy again!"

"I'm _fine!_ " I yelled at him, shifting my weight and running full-tilt at the door. "Absolutely—" I groaned at the impact. "Peachy! Matt's the one that needs me!"

"Matt will be _fine,"_ Wanda tried to soothe. I could feel something like warm honey starting to seep through my skin, setting my instincts on fire and making the buzzing feeling in my head worsen.

"Stop, _Stop it!"_ I bellowed, gripping my head with both hands. "No magic! _No magic!"_

The feeling immediately vanished, leaving me crumpled—when did I fall?— on the ground gasping for breath.

"—I don't know," Wanda was saying on the other side of the door. "I was just trying to soothe her mind, but she pushed me out. She is far more sensitive to magic than anyone I have ever met. I do not believe it is safe to try that again."

"Okay, well…" Peter's voice was much softer and slightly further away, preventing me from hearing the rest of his sentence.

It didn't matter anyway. I need out. Hearing Peter there did help a little of the pain recede, but not nearly enough. I needed out, I needed Matt.

I needed my Dad.

What seemed like a second later, I was back at the back of the room already taking my first frantic steps towards the door with my shoulder aimed out. Except, the door opened right as I was about to crash into it that time and I was sent flying into a pair of very familiar arms.

Peter wrapped me in a tight hug, doing his best to pin my arms to my side as he did.

"You're okay, take a deep breath please. Calm down— you're hyperventilating," he whispered softly to me, barely audible even though his head was almost flush against mine. Trapped and frustrated, I hissed.

"I. Can't. Air is for the weak," I snapped. His arms just tightened around me, and I could hear him and Wanda huffing out a slightly disbelieving, mostly _sad_ laugh.

"I'm pretty sure we all need air, Hebi," Wanda said gently. "Please, you're worrying Peter."

A plan unraveling slower than usual in my foggy brain, I decided to comply. Slowly, I tried relaxing enough in Peter's arms to take a slow breath. My chest, still tight and feeling like wet concrete was hardening around it, didn't cooperate very well and cut my breath short. Frustrated, I tried again. That time my chest allowed a little more give, and I got a little more oxygen into me.

A few more breaths, and my head was significantly clearer. It was as if someone slapped my brain cells awake when they were in the middle of sleepwalking, my clarity allowing me to asses the situation much better than I had been.

For one, there was a vent I had completely ignored earlier because the door was the most obvious exit. Had I actually been in trouble, I would have completely given up my main escape route.

Dumb, stupid mistake. Stupid mistake. Amateur mistake.

_Inadequate inadequate inadequate._

"Better?" Peter asked gently, pulling away so he could look at me, but he kept his hands on my shoulders. "Cold?"

I didn't realize I was shivering until he mentioned it. I blinked. The room _had_ been pretty cold. Clint knew about my partial cold-bloodedness, and how snakes instinctually slowed down or stopped moving when they got too cold. He had probably adjusted the temperature like that to keep me from moving too much.

It might have worked on any other day.

"I… I don't do well in the cold, that's why I'm already starting to wear heavier sweaters," I decided to answer Peter. "Not… Not a big deal right now. I just need to—"

"You really shouldn't Hebi," Peter protested before I could get another word out. "You're being really unhealthy. What would Matt do once he's lucid again and sees you half starved to death?"

"You don't und—" I stopped myself before I could finish that sentence, looking between the two specific people with me. "Holy hell. They picked you two to come up here first specifically _because_ you understand, didn't they?" I asked rhetorically, scrunching my nose.

"Bingo," Wanda admitted with a small, soft smirk. "Also probably because we are closest to your age. But Peter has a point, what _would_ Matt say when he wakes up and sees you like this?" She nodded in the direction of my shoulder, the one I had been ramming the door with. "Your shirt needs a replacement now, or maybe a bit of tailor work."

The short sleeve where I had hit the door was already worn through, coming apart from the rest of the shirt in places along the seam. The middle of the sleeve looked thin enough to come apart with a simple touch—it would rip into a giant hole in the washer for sure.

Peter made a face, removing one of his hands to pull that sleeve up carefully, exposing my very red skin underneath. Peter hissed in sympathy—there were scrapes and bubbles of blood coming up in the center of the impact spot. There was already a huge rim of color that told of the whole shoulder being a pretty bruise in a few hours.

I barely felt the sting.

Seeing my opportunity, I launched to the side. Peter's grip was just loose enough to slip away from me at my sudden movement. I managed to turn towards the elevator before Peter's Spider-enhanced reflexes managed to catch me by the wrist.

" _Hebi!"_ He scolded, voice equal parts surprised, angry, and concerned. "Didn't you hear me? I get it that you're worried, okay? You have every right," he tried, stepping closer in case I made another attempt to flee. "But you're hurting yourself. You need to be able to take care of Matt in a way that isn't overboard, in a way that is healthy. He would not be happy to wake up and realize you're malnourished because you spent all your time on him."

Oh yeah, I would be grounded and coddled for life if he found out. But it was worth it. I needed to be there.

My eyes found Peter's hand on my wrist, my thoughts rushing through my head even faster than the blood from my rapidly beating heart. I bit the inside of my cheek, weighing the pros and the cons.

My secret identity meant nothing to me if Matt wasn't okay.

That realization in hand, I gritted my teeth and shifted my stance. In one solid tug of superhuman strength, I could be out of Peter's hold and in the staircase right beside the elevator. I couldn't trust the actual elevator, Friday ran it.

It would be tight, but if I used my abilities I would be able to escape Peter and the others and get back to Matt.

I took a deep breath, clenching my hand into a fist—

"Hebi, don't," Bucky's stern voice echoed down the hallway, snapping my gaze up to the now-open elevator. The familiar super soldier walked out, Steve and Tony close behind him, with his eyes on me.

I froze.

"I know you could get out of Peter's grasp, I've seen you do it to me in training, but don't. You need to calm down," he continued, his tone giving no room for argument. His words drew Peter's gaze down to my fist, but I didn't look back to see the reaction on his face. Bucky was covering for me, erasing the potential side effects of what I had almost done.

Right. I was keeping my identity for a reason. If they found out about who I was, they'd question why Matt was able to take care of me so easily especially as a blind guy. If they found out he was Daredevil and that was leaked on accident?

His career as a lawyer would be ruined.

I looked down at the ground, shoulders sinking in defeat. Bucky came closer, nodding to Peter who let go of me at that signal. Bucky placed his flesh hand on my left shoulder, the uninjured one. I didn't meet his eyes.

"You're a little too dependent on Matt right now. I get that you're close to him, we all know the fear of losing someone close to us. But you can't keep doing this self destructive shit, Hebi," he scolded gently. "It won't solve anything. It won't magically make him better, to stop taking care of yourself. Karen, that woman that came—"

"She's one of Matt's best friends," I confirmed, sighing. "She and Foggy are the only real friends Matt has, really. He… doesn't open up to others very easily," I shifted from foot to foot. "It's just the three of us. Me, Foggy, Karen. Sometimes our doctor friend who's prescribed his medicine and stuff, but she can't be there all the time. And either Foggy or Karen— they've been helping a lot, of course. One of them will spend the night to keep an eye on Matt but…"

"But, What? Can't you trust them?" Bucky asked, sounding dubious. "You think they'll hurt him, or—"

"No! No, of course not!" I vehemently shot down what he was saying, looking up at him with wide eyes. "But it's _my fault._ I should have been faster, I should know better than to let Danger Magnet Murdock alone for more than two seconds at night, let alone near an alleyway like that. What the hell was I thinking?" My hands started clenching at my hair, pulling slightly but not hard enough to rip out hair. Just enough to ground me.

"Hey, you got there in time to save him, right?" Peter tried, coming up so he stood next to Bucky and I couldn't really avoid looking at him. "He's sick and a little hurt, yeah, but he's alive."

"No thanks to me," I muttered dryly, moving my hands down and crossing my arms tightly. "I help Matt practice boxing and stuff on our Saturday training sessions. All I did was knock the guy out, even if he's blind Matt was still able to defend himself well enough," I admitted. "He's the one that got rid of the knife and knocked the man down," Okay, maybe stop being so specific about a cover story Hebi, my inner voice yelled at me. Foggy, Karen and I had already agreed on a basic cover story so I wasn't worried about that. It was just fact that adding too much detail to a lie was often the downfall of said lie.

"But he's alive," that was Steve, who had drawn up on Bucky's other side. I sighed in frustration. Two super soldiers and Spider-Man less than three feet in front of me, Iron man with a single gauntlet on his hand standing right by the elevator, and a witch at my back. Yeah, I wasn't getting out any time soon.

I rubbed at my forehead. "How long am I being kept here?" I asked grumpily. Steve and Bucky shared a glance.

"At least a day," Tony spoke up from down the hall, hands at his side so that he could whip out his gauntleted hand at a moment's notice. "We need Bruce to do a check up on you, he can probably give you a more accurate time frame. We need you back on a healthy routine, and some gross emotional talk will probably benefit you. That whole self blame thing you have going on?" He waved a finger in my direction. "Not gonna cut it. We're gonna have to address that."

"Hypocrite," Peter muttered, but he didn't catch Bucky looking over at Peter and mouthing the same word in his direction. My lips twitched. I guess self-blame was a common thing in the Avengers, which wasn't that surprising when I thought about it. If they put it upon themselves to protect the world, there had to be a reason. Guilt over a past failure to protect something was a pretty valid reason, and feeling responsible for everything that went wrong was probably a side effect of naming themselves one of the primary protectors of an entire _planet_.

I took a deep breath.

"Okay. I'll… try," I agreed reluctantly, scratching at my arm subconsciously. "I can't really keep any large meals down. So, uh…"

"We'll work with that," Steve spoke up with a decisive nod. "We can make light meals, soup maybe. Work a little at a time. Four days isn't long, but long enough to have an effect. Right now though, it's late. I'm pretty sure you don't _want_ a guard put on your room, so could you agree to go to sleep without trying to slip out?"

"FYI, the stairwell door is also solid metal and locked," Tony pitched in from down the hallway, making me rub my forehead.

"Yeah, I guess," I groused. "I'll try to sleep, but no promises."

"We can get you a sleep pill if you think that would help," Wanda offered. "Usually I'd try to use magic to help you fall asleep, but you didn't react very well earlier so I do not think it is safe."

"She reacted oddly?" Steve asked, looking slightly alarmed. "What happened?"

I turned to see Wanda. She was frowning, arms crossed as she thought back to a few minutes earlier.

"Hebi was in the middle of a panic attack and trying to break her door down, so I tried to use a little bit of magic to calm her down and soothe her panic. I didn't even use much, but she immediately felt it and her body reacted negatively to the energy. It seems the feel of magic actually made her panic attack worse. She even yelled at me to not use it, so she _consciously_ recognized what was happening," the witch summed up.

"Nobody's been able to sense your magic before unless you've done it on them several times," Bucky mused out loud, Peter nodding grimly.

"Hebi must be really sensitive. Doctor Strange did say that she always curled up next to evil artifacts in the Sanctum, right? Maybe she just feels magic really easily," Peter mused out loud, looking to me for confirmation. I looked up at the ceiling for a moment, the idle discussion annoying me but knowing I couldn't get out of it. I just wanted to be at home next to Matt's side. What if he woke up and was hungry? Would Foggy or Karen be okay making him soup? What if they burnt the—okay even in my overly worried state I knew they wouldn't burn the building down, but still.

"I guess," I muttered. "Magic feels… physical, I guess," I told them. "I'd sleep next to some stuff in the Sanctum that I didn't know was evil because it felt like a campfire, and I was always in the Sanctum in winter. Wanda's magic…" I tilted my head as I thought about the sensation. "It didn't feel _hot_ like the stuff in the Sanctum did. It felt like warm honey or melted chocolate. So I knew it wasn't dangerous or anything, but…"

"But feeling something physical in the middle of a panic attack didn't help anything," Bucky guessed out loud. I nodded, knowing he knew the truth— the idea of anyone affecting my mind or emotions like that terrified me. I couldn't go through that again, no matter how nice it felt.

"Okay, that's something to tell Bruce then. At least we know now so that we know better than to ask Wanda to use magic on you in the future," Steve concluded with a nod to himself. "It's past midnight, everyone should go to bed now. Peter was supposed to be asleep already," Steve's words reminded the boy that he had stayed up late, making my friend yawn.

"I'll be here if you need me," Peter made sure to remind me, eyes still worried. "Text me if you need anything, even if I'm in school okay? I mean it. Anything."

"Take me home," I deadpanned, but Peter's eyes only got sadder as he shook his head.

"Goodnight, Hebi," he whispered, turning to go into the elevator.

"Goodnight my friend," Wanda parroted, smiling at me kindly as she walked past me to go join Peter.

"This is mainly the guest room floor," Tony told me, his gauntlet suddenly gone. "Peter and Wanda are on the floor above this, where the common room is. I have the highest floor, you should know that Bucky and Steve's floor is two above this, Nat above them, then Clint. You can ask Friday if you need anything. Sam has the room at the end of the hall," Tony pointed to the room. "Right there. He didn't want a whole floor to himself."

The door opened slightly, Sam's head peeking out. "I am regretting that decision at the moment. I'm too tired right now, but I got the basics from Friday. Fill me in in the morning, and for the love of good food, please let me sleep now."

I rubbed the back of my head, not realizing I had actually kept someone up. "Oh. Sorry, Sam."

The guy waved me off. "'S fine, from what I hear you're going through something so I get it. But maybe no more shaking the whole wall?"

I grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I can do that. Goodnight, Sam."

After he closed the door, I turned back to see that Tony had disappeared and left me with Golden Boy and Robocop. Bucky ran a hand through his hair.

"I, or both of us, can stay down here if you need us to," he offered softly. "Stevie's good at helping with nightmares if you need it."

I looked down at my feet, just noticing I still had shoes on. Come to think of it, when was the last time I took my shoes off? Or showered? I opened my mouth and took a small breath—oof. That was at least three day's worth of funk. Yeah, shower first and then bed.

"Um. Do you have any clothes that I can wear?" I asked tentatively. "And, um, as for the offer… I…" I forced myself to take a deep breath, thinking about myself seriously for the first time in a few days. If Matt knew what state I was in, he'd be angry and worried and probably blame himself.

If it kept him from blaming himself for one extra thing, I should probably fix the issue I caused in the first place, right? And that… that probably included the nightmares I was almost guaranteed to have. I sighed. Bucky _did_ have a calming effect on me. I didn't know Steve all that well, only having had a few conversations with him, but if Bucky vouched for him…

"I think I'd like it if you guys stayed down here," I admitted softly, feeling myself blush at the admission. It sounded so weak, but… but if it kept Matt from blaming himself for my own mistakes…

"Okay," Steve agreed softly. "Do you want us in the room across the hall, or in with you? And the closet should be stocked with plenty of sizes of clothing, you should be able to find something that fits no problem."

"Uh, I'm gonna take a shower first, so you guys can go ahead and take the room across the hall. But if I have a nightmare I might want you to stay. Feeling someone's pulse helps me calm down, usually it's Matt's but…"

"We get it," Steve assured me with a small smile. "We'll be in that room until you need us then, goodnight Hebi."

I nodded, and Bucky ruffled my hair. They stood there for a moment and I realized they were waiting for me to go back inside first, probably thinking I'd try to run again. I sighed, turning and going back inside the still-open room. I turned right before I closed the door, looking up at them. "Goodnight, guys."

Once I was back in with the door firmly shut, I looked up at the ceiling. "Friday? Could you keep the door unlocked please?" I asked, scratching at my arm again restlessly. "I don't like being locked in anywhere, and there's plenty of Avengers nearby, right? If I tried to get out they'd stop me before I could make it more than a few floors."

" _... Alright Hebi, I will keep your door unlocked for now. However, if you try to leave again I will be forced to lock it."_

I smiled, relaxing. "That's fair," I agreed before heading to the closet and shuffling through everything inside. There really were most sizes covered, from kid's clothing to extra-extra large men's size. It wasn't hard for me to pick out some slightly baggy sweats and a sweater— the room was still cold—since baggy clothes were more comfortable for me than anything more form fitting. I was even able to grab some underwear, which was a bit embarrassing but not the most awkward thing I'd ever done. Clothing chosen, I walked into the attached restroom.

It was large. I was used to the cramped little thing that Matt and I shared, so the fact that there was space was a bit of an adjustment. For a guest room, everything was pretty spacey—like a luxury hotel room. Which, again, _Tony Stark_ was the one who owned the building so I really shouldn't have been surprised. There was a bathtub _and_ a shower, and a really long sink. The toilet was nothing special, but still somehow seemed worth more than an entire year's salary for WickedTea (even if it hadn't been operational for a whole year yet, it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon for sure so I had estimates).

I set my pile of clothes on the counter so it was easy to change into them when I was done, and then I turned on the shower and stripped.

I spent a long moment in front of the massive mirror over the sink, just taking in my body. I usually tried not to whenever I bathed, but with everything going on I felt I had to. I had to remind myself of everything I had survived so that I could remember that I could survive this, too. This anxiety, this worry, it wouldn't win. Both Matt and myself, we'd emerge just fine.

With that thought in mind, I raked my eyes down myself. There was the bullet wound from several months earlier in my side, one of the newest scars. I had a few minor knife wounds that were more recent, but nothing too bad. The old scars were the bad ones.

There was a long pale stripe curling along my right hip, following the bone. It made almost a perfect arch from the front of my pelvis to right down the middle of my right buttcheek. It wasn't pretty, jagged around the edges from where I had moved after the initial wound and tore the skin. There was a large burn scar running down the middle of my chest, the top of it brushing over the bottom of both my breasts and the bottom barely managing to cover my belly button. I soaked it all in, allowing every knife wound and bullet mark—of which there were several on my legs and waist and one on my left shoulder, thankfully not the one that was injured and Peter had been able to see. Luckily that one was placed where it was easily covered by a thick tank top strap, so I doubted anyone outside of Matt, Foggy, or Karen knew about it. I had another burn scar covering almost my entire right knee, going from about two-thirds across it and around the left side, curling about an inch around the back. There was my favorite, three separate stab wounds on my lower left calf that somehow managed to overlap and look like a heart. A very misshapen, lopsided, asymmetrical heart. But still a heart.

After cataloguing each one, the steam from the shower had already begun to fill the room and cling to the ceiling. I took a deep breath, and walked under the stream.

The scalding water immediately stung the open scrapes on my shoulder, making me hiss a little. I rolled it, not allowing myself to step to the side and give my shoulder a break. After a minute, the pain faded into a dull ache and I sighed in relief. With the water cascading over my short hair and battered body, it felt as if a lot of my worries were evaporating and joining the steam above my head. I let my eyes drift closed, soaking in the way the heat slowly worked at the knots in my muscles and coaxed them to loosen, coaxed my sleep-deprived head to soften and grow fuzzy with exhaustion. Conscious of the very real risk of falling asleep in the surprisingly relaxing shower, I sped through the washing of my hair and body so I could get out before I succumbed to the admittedly tempting idea of just sleeping on the tile floor under the pleasantly hot spray.

Getting dressed in the sweats and sweater after the shower was another layer of comfort all together. They were warm and dry and soft, making my eyes droop even more. After making sure everything was turned off, I exited the bathroom. I'd grab my dirty clothes in the morning. In the end, it was just past one in the morning by the time I got out and climbed into the queen sized bed (who kept beds that large in a guest room? Tony Fucking Stark, apparently). It wasn't really any later than the time I would get home from patrol, earlier in fact. And nightmares would often keep me up or disrupt my sleep pretty badly too, so I had long since gotten used to getting by on three or four hours of solid sleep a day. Maybe less on a particularly bad night.

So, with a significantly fuzzier and calmer head than I had had almost an hour earlier, I let myself drift off.

—*—*—*—*—*

Tanned eyelids hung heavy, the lacy lashes of those eye-curtains hanging a shadow over the edge of where they were delicately closed. Sweet, cornmeal-blond hair framed his face slightly, feather-clumps of bangs just barely brushing above the eye. Every strand was more stagnant than death itself, as if suspended in time or sealed in clear resin.

Everything in the room jumped a good fifty degrees to my heat pits as I ran my tongue over my chapped lips. I could not hear my breaths, but I could feel them. They shook my whole chest silently, every exhale coming in hundreds of tiny shivers instead of the solid waves of air they should have been.

My sins slithered over my skin, the old and the in-progress, as if wrongdoings were mucus that was excreting from my very flesh to blanket me, drown me, devour me. The viscous matter was icy as it crawled against my body, suspending my arm hairs in it's liquid as it went and raising goosebumps as it sucked at my limbs. It fed off of depravity and demons, and I was it's favorite delicacy.

_Clack clack clackclackclack_

I had to slam my palm over my opposite fingers, their trembles causing the tiny metal and plastic parts I was holding to clatter against each other and make noise. It was a tiny sound, a tinkling that my disabled ears could barely pick up, but more than loud enough for my friends to be able to hear in clarity. Had they been awake, they would have been instantly drawn to it.

Conscious of the evil I was doing, of how I was only feeding the gelatinous sin monster that had slithered over every inch of me already, I pressed the needle slowly into the crook of his tanned arm. His veins were easily visible, the marks from the countless times he had already been pricked by the Experimenters giving me an easy bullseye to target. The metal slid in easily, following the pathways already accepted by his body.

Separate. I couldn't do this as normal, I had to separate my emotions. Soft, blush pink was packed away into a box. Friendship. Shipping-crate navy blue was next, I folded that into an envelope and tossed it like a frisbee. Loyalty. Blood red, melted down and poured into a juice box. I crushed it, tossing the thing away in the opposite direction of Loyalty— honor. A black as deep as my hair was next, I packed that into a box as well. Identity. Lastly, grass and weed-leaf green. I stared at the color for a while with my mind's eye, soaking in the rarity that I only caught glimpses of through the cracks in the wall and on missions. And then, I hung it up on it's hanger and placed it in the closet of barely-worn colors. The softness of it was already fairly foreign. I closed the closet door— Joy.

That left only concrete-slab gray. Obedience. Mercy.

My thumb slid over the syringe button, slamming it down violently. I needed all the liquid out, I couldn't dally. I didn't need to be cruel.

Ninety-eight degrees. I pulled the needle out.

Ninety-six degrees. The tiny vibrations through his metal bed slowed, then stopped.

Ninety-degrees. I fled.

Two of the Monsters carried him out the next morning. Seventy-two degrees, room temperature. I leaned forward on my bed to grasp the last view of his features, I needed to cement him in my head. There was his tan skin, his red—

Red hair?

The air around me solidified into viscous jello once again, settling around me with chilly finality as I stared down at Matt's stone-still face. The body lengthened and paled until, instead of fellow Experiment, it was my dad being limply carried away to the Dump.

No.

No, I didn't kill him.

Not Matt.

The sin-mucus around my started to harden, sealing my arms to my sides and my legs to each other as I rocked from side to side. It took a long moment for me to realize that there was a scream ripping itself out of my throat— Matt was alive, I didn't kill him. How could I kill him?

Oh my god I _killed_ _him._

 _Demons are as demons do,_ the mucus sung to me as it dived through my open mouth and started filling me like wet cement. It would make me a statue inside and out, immortalizing my sins.

"Hebi."

_I killed him_

"Hebi!"

_I killed Matt._

"Hebi, you need to wake up,"

_Why wasn't I dead already anyway?_

"Hebi, it's me Steve. You're in the Tower, your dad is okay. It's three o'clock in the morning, you're just waking up from a nightmare…"

Steve?

I slowly cracked my eyes open.

Who was Steve?

Blonde. Blonde hair hit my eyes first, and a whine pulled itself out of me.

"I'm so sorry," I gasped out, my face warm and wet— I must have been crying. Steve's face crinkled, and my memories slowly trickled in with the rest of my clarity as I woke the rest of the way up.

Oh, right. Steve. Steve, not Remmy.

"It's okay," he whispered, "can I touch you? It might help ground you," he asked, hand hovering over my shoulder. "Take a deep breath, you're okay."

I did as he said, slowly reaching up with one hand to wipe away the salty water on my face. He said it was three, hadn't he? Heh. I couldn't even go two hours without a nightmare. I wished I was surprised.

"I'm, a-actually," I cursed my post-nightmare stutter, clearing my throat. "Actually, could I… can I just hold your wrist?" I whispered my question, knowing speaking too loud would make my voice wobble far too embarrassingly.

Steve smiled gently, his perfectly white teeth almost blinding in the dark room. He nodded. "That's right, you said feeling a pulse helps. Here," he held out his hand easily, and I carefully pushed myself up with shaking arms until I was sitting. That arduous task done, I let my fingers gently wrap just under his palm.

_Thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud. Thud-thud…_

"Heh," I found myself let out a weak chuckle, sniffing. "You're pulse is a little quicker than Matt's," I muttered, my usual mind-to-mouth filter a bit skewed. I felt rather than heard Steve's answering breathy laugh.

"It's the serum," he assured me. "Me and Bucky's hearts run a little faster, but they don't speed up nearly as easily under exercise or strain as a normal person's. Guess it's just a super soldier thing," his voice was gentle and smooth, the combination of his casual tone and steady heartbeat allowing me to take full breaths without feeling strangled. I slowly calmed down.

"Uh, speaking of Bucky," I tested slowly once I was a bit more under control. Steve smiled knowingly.

"He's still in our room. He had a nightmare of his own, so I wanted him to stay asleep a bit longer. I know you're closer with him, but I'm not a bad substitute am I?"

I winced, not having thought about everyone else having their own issues. All of the Avengers had been through more than their fair share of horrible shit, of course they'd all have nightmares and issues of their own. Why should they have to deal with mine, too? Why didn't they even _hesitate_ to offer to do that for me?

I licked my lips, allowing the slight shock to my heat sensing to ground me again before my thoughts could get too dark. "No, I get it," I answered out loud, offering Steve a bit of a vulnerable smile. I hadn't really ever wanted Captain America to see me in such a weak state, but I guessed the universe didn't really care about my preferences. When had it ever? "You actually helped me a lot, thank you Steve," I admitted shyly. "I guess Bucky was telling the truth when he said you were good at helping with nightmares."

Steve laughed quietly, using his free hand to pat mine gently. "It's no problem, Hebi. All of us know what it's like to deal with things like this, so we want to be able to help other people deal with it if we can. The worst thing you can do is try to deal with it alone," his voice grew slightly stern st the end as he leveled a knowing look at me. I flushed what was probably deep red with embarrassment.

"I'll keep that in mind," I hedged, before giving the older man a glare of my own. "Have _you_ gotten any sleep yet?"

It was Steve's turn to blush, and he placed a very fake cough in his fist, looking away from me. "I've gotten about an hour. Don't worry about me, the serum made it so I don't need that much sleep anyway. Three or four hours and I'm good to go for the day."

 _Oh hey, we're the same in that regard,_ I thought idly. Though, in his case it was just natural after he got injected with the serum. In my case, it was just years of only being _able_ to get that much sleep that led to me just adapting to short nights.

"Well, um," I started after a long moment of comfortable silence. "I'm better now, Steve. Thanks again."

The blond shook his head with a soft smile. "Don't worry about it Hebi. Think you can get back to sleep?"

I looked up at the ceiling, biting my cheek in thought. My heartbeat was calm, I didn't feel any signs of a panic attack… I nodded.

"I don't usually have that much of an issue getting back to sleep, just _staying_ that way," I admitted. "I should be fine for now, go back to sleep. Please."

That earned me a chuckle and a hair-ruffle.

"Alright, kid. I hope you only have good dreams for the rest of the night. See you in the morning."

I nodded, smiling as I watched him go.

"See you."

I laid back down after he left, hugging the blankets close to myself. It had been a long time since I'd dreamt of Remmy, but it made sense. He had died in his sleep, and Matt was constantly sleeping. I mentally cursed my brain out in every language I knew, closing my eyes.

 _Leave me alone now,_ I pleaded to the universe. _Isn't living a nightmare when I'm_ _ **awake**_ _bad enough for now?_

— ***—*—*—*—***

**hey! It's been a while since we've had a chapter completely from Hebi's point of view, huh? Have we even had one before now..? I can't remember.**

**You guys might notice a little detail that seems a little weird. Keep in mind guys, Hebi is extremely frantic and not nearly as observant as usual in this chapter so there might be a few things that happened in this chapter that she legitimately** _**didn't notice.** _ **That is purposeful, and one detail in particular will come into play in later chapters. I can't reveal what it is though, you guys can do detective work ;)**

 

**Thank you so much for reading, please comment, and as always;**

**See you next chapter!~**


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so let me explain real quick. Outside of fan fictions, I actually want to pursue writing as a career and so I use fan fictions as my practice and “fun” writing. For example, an athlete has to exercise on a regular basis in order to stay in shape and they might have a favorite exercise or something that they do when they want to have fun while keeping in shape, or maybe practice matches can be counted as that. It’s the same way for writers, we have to constantly write if we want to get better. It’s like exercising a muscle, the only way to be sure that you can write for long periods of time almost any time you need to is to gradually practice writing anything at all for as long and as often as you can until you gradually build up that mental “switch” if you will, to write basically on command. And of course, the more you write the better you get. 
> 
> Well, I’ve been writing some stories I plan to get published at the same time that I’ve been writing S&EC, and while writing my other fanfics too. As you can probably tell though, considering S&EC is over 140,000 words in and the plot is barely starting to kick in, I have a bit of a problem fitting a good plot into the normal 80-90,000 word limit of a standard novel. I’ve tried out at least three different stories (multiple times each) and I can’t seem to work out a plot that fits in that length while not being cliché. Until about last week, when I decided to try out a “softer” plot. So I’ve been working on that story the majority of this past week, which is part of the reason this chapter is so late. I will still be writing S&EC as often as I can since I need the mental exercise and because this story is my “relaxing” practice writing, but I will also be writing my other story with the intent to publish it. 
> 
> On that note, if you are interested in being a beta reader for my original story, comment below. I will be extremely picky since this is something I am planning to be my job—it is essentially the product of my life’s effort at this point, and there are less than honest people in the world, but the offer is out there. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy the chapter!

Sleep slowly ebbed away, the last vague shadows of ambiguous dreams—neither good nor bad—drifting into oblivion. I blinked up at the stark white ceiling, wondering for a disconnected moment why the outsides of my legs were warm but the insides weren't.

I suppose it was an indication of my mental state that I was not twisted into a sleep-doughnut, my legs only slightly spread apart in the bed. Mildly curious, I sat up to figure out the source of the odd temperature placement, only to be acquainted with the large rip in the center of the blanket that I had made the previous night.

Right. That was a thing, lucky not too noticeable unless my legs were spreading the rip apart like right then. I sighed, rubbing my forehead and pushing the luxurious silver-gray blanket to the side.

"Friday, what time is it?" I asked as I made my way across the criminally cold room, wrinkling my nose as I fought the instinct to curl up into a ball and stay as still as possible until it warmed up. I was shuffling through the closet to find a pair of fuzzy socks when I was answered.

" _It is currently six thirty-seven in the morning, Hebi."_

 _Awesome,_ I thought to myself, pleased. That was a pretty decent night's sleep. I had taken a shower the night before, so I wouldn't need another one so soon. Finding an appropriate pair of black fuzzy socks, I slid them on before selecting a plain pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt that looked about the right size. I set the more proper clothes aside for later, and went into the restroom to brush my teeth and otherwise get ready.

The separation from Matt was still gnawing at me, but not as violently as the day before. Then, it had been a staticky, stabbing pain of panic and worry that would barely let me think. Today, it had turned into a hollow ache that seemed to chew at me from the inside out as if trying to create a tunnel through my chest.

I made my way up to the common room without another word once my hygiene stuff was taken care of. The room was only empty long enough for me to slap bread in the toaster and grab a bottle of water before a sleepy Peter, rubbing at his eyes, walked in. He was also still in his pajamas like I was, his iron-man pajama shirt only covering the top half of his hello-kitty pants. I raised an eyebrow, but sipped at my water without a word.

Then the toast popped up.

"You can have one of those slices," I offered, shocking Peter awake apparently since his hands flew away from where they had been attacking his poor defenseless eyes and making him whip his head towards me. His mouth was wide open, same as his eyes, and he spent a while just gaping. I raised an eyebrow again, taking a long sip of water.

"Seriously. It's just toast, dude. I probably won't even be able to keep just one down," I admitted with a shrug. "But I'll try, or else Golden Boy Rogers is going to nag."

"Umm," Peter was still looking like a deer caught in headlights, and looked down the hallway towards his room. After a long moment of thought, he slowly approached me and sat down at the counter. I shrugged and tossed him one of the toast slices, taking the other for myself. I was treated to the wonderful sight of Peter's hand instinctively snapping up to grab the food out of midair without even looking towards it. His eyes had never left me.

"Uh," he decided to try talking again. "Could you… Pass me the Cocoa Puffs then? And uh, a bowl and milk and—"

"I get it, you want cereal," I interrupted with a snort. "I don't need the step by step," I was closer to the cabinets, so it didn't bother me to fetch him the stuff. All I had to do was turn around, open a cabinet, grab the bowl and box of cereal inside, the milk from the fridge, and a spoon from the drawer next to the fridge. Not a single step required.

Quest finished, I balanced everything in both hands, took a single step forward, and set it all down in front of him. I took the tiniest bite of plain toast as I watched him, while holding his own slice in his mouth, prepare his own breakfast. The food tasted stale and bland to me, but I swallowed it despite the urge to gag. How could I eat when Matt was still bedridden?

I grabbed a paper towel, using it to place my toast on top of on the counter so I didn't have to even touch the offending edible item.

My stomach rolled already, so I sipped my water to take my mind off it.

"So, uh," Peter started, looking intently into his bowl of cereal. He took a large bite. "How are you feeling today?" He asked tentatively after swallowing. I met his eyes squarely, frowning.

"Pete…"

"Glass scale," he spat out suddenly, making my eyebrows furrow before I realized what he was talking about and my face relaxed. He hadn't had to ask me that yet, not since creating the scale. I thought about it, crossing my arms and leaning forward onto the counter.

"...Last night I was probably at an eight? Maybe nine, but I obviously wasn't breaking the same way we talked about before," I mused out loud, sorting through my emotions carefully. "Still not. I guess a ten in this case would be trying to get out by force, or trying to do something... _drastic_ , to get back to Matt. So, I guess I'm at a five or six," I slowly admitted, tasting the words. Once they were all out, I nodded slowly. "Yeah… Five and a half," I finally decided. Peter nodded, having been eating quietly the whole time. He was reaching back for the box of cereal even as he opened his mouth to reply.

"That's better, at least. But anywhere above five is still 'run the moment you get an opening,' isn't it?"

I huffed in irritation, looking away. That was apparently enough of an answer for my best friend, who shook his head and sighed through his nose.

"Stop psychoanalyzing me, Captain Bedhead," I grumbled, letting my eyes obviously roam over his messy hair. Peter's lips twitched into a smirk even as he rolled his eyes.

"Gooood Morning, Hebi!" A very familiar voice called out happily, followed my a cheery clap. I groaned, bending over so my hands covered my head and my forehead was against the cool marble of the countertop. Tony walked in, Foggy by his side.

"I do not have the mental capacity to deal with your sunshine right now, Foggy," I moaned in despair. "How the fuck are you so happy anyway, there's no way in hell you got even six hours of sleep."

"Five and a half, and I count that as a win," he confirmed cheerily. I lifted my head just enough to glare at him. Despite his happy voice, there were very clear bags under his eyes and his hair wasn't quite as neat as usual. Tony, who was next to him, was clutching a thermos of coffee for dear life and slowly inching away from my loud uncle figure. Tony's eyes though, however hidden behind glasses as they were, were clearly on me.

"Come on kid, you have a free pass to sleep in and you're still awake?" He asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at me. "I know for a fact I told Friday _not_ to set an alarm for you."

"Free pass?" I asked, straightening up. My eyes slid over to Foggy, who cringed. Clarity lit up my brain. "Oh, no. No, there is not a chance in ever loving _hell_ you are getting me to skip school," I informed them firmly. Foggy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his sunny persona slid away a bit.

"Hebs, there is no way you're going to school like this," he argued gently, using the nickname he knew I was weak for. My frown deepened. "I know you and Matt are all fanatic about education and making sure you set yourself up for the best future possible, but answer me honestly. Are you even able to pay attention in class like this?"

"Why am I friends with lawyers?" I asked rhetorically instead of answering, looking up at the ceiling for answers. "Why do I surround myself with argumentative people when I just want to wallow in misery nice and quietly?"

"Because your subconscious has some form of self preservation that you, as a whole, seem to lack," Foggy answered, once again chipper. I glared at him, and Tony snorted into his coffee. Peter was pouring a third bowl of cereal. "Also," Foggy held up his hand, where my hearing aids were proudly displayed in his grip. My eyes widened, and my hands shot up to my ears. I must have taken them off sometime after I got home from school and forgotten all about them. Satisfied by my reaction, Foggy pocketed the devices. "Can't go to school without your hearing aids. That's a deal you and Matt made, right?"

I growled under my breath, knowing I was beat but refusing to back down.

"Matt wants me to get the best education possible," I argued, plastic crinkling as my grip slightly tightened around my water bottle. "He'd have my ass if he knows I skipped."

Foggy rolled his eyes. "Not if he knew what state you were in, idiot," he retorted fondly. "In fact, he's more likely to have your ass for what you're doing to yourself rather than missing a day of school. We both know you've already done a week of homework in advance, you're not fooling us."

Peter's head shot to me, a large spoon of cereal half in his mouth. Tony's gaze was heavy on my face.

"Okay, so I'm an overachiever. Can't beat listening to the teacher first hand though, r—"

"Hebi, you're at least a month ahead of most of your class, stop trying to get out of this," Foggy shot down immediately, voice turning from cheery to admonishing in an instant. "You're staying here for now, since Karen is still shaken up about the whole window thing," he raised his eyebrows pointedly, making me wince at the memory. "Next time you decide to jump out of a fifth story window, do us all a favor and _don't."_

"Fwibth?!" That was Peter, who promptly choked on his cereal from his attempt at speaking with a full mouth. I turned to him, giving him the best bewildered look I could as he got himself back under control. He coughed a few times for good measure, took a deep breath, and continued; "you could have seriously gotten hurt!"

"Or gotten dead," Tony grumbled barely loud enough for me to hear. I sighed.

"I slid down the drain pipe, I wasn't stupid enough for a full on free fall," I corrected them.

"You still scared the hell out of Karen," Foggy scolded gently. "You'll need to buy her a huge box of chocolates once this whole fiasco is over," the blond then walked smoothly over to me, wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulder as I moved. He gave me one of his blinding smiles. "Come on, Hebs. Most kids your age would _love_ a chance like this. You get to skip school and spend the whole day with the Avengers—"

"As their rehab prisoner," I groused. He ignored my interruption, forging on;

"—and just relax. No homework, no bullies, no annoying teachers. Just you, some heroes, good food. Try to enjoy it," he shook me a little, trying to get me to meet his eyes. "Okay? Leave Matt to me, Karen, and Claire to handle. He'll be up and making stupid, reckless decisions again in a couple days. Then you'll _wish_ he'd lay down in a bed and get some rest."

I couldn't help a tiny chuckle at that, knowing how true it was.

"Now, I gotta get back so that Karen can take a break and get some breakfast. Please don't do anything d—"

He paused, the both of us looking up at the sound of scraping. Peter tilted his head, the sound coming from the hallway where his bedroom was. There was a seldom-used elevator at the end of that hallway, which was probably where Bruce had come from because he was the one who emerged dragging a portable dry erase board. Once fully in the room, he set it up so it stood on it's own. Proudly written in bold red ink were the words, "Martyr Complex Anonymous," which made Foggy slap a hand over his mouth as he choked on air. I just let my eyes slowly slide up to the mousy haired scientist.

"Umm… what?"

Bruce proudly patted the board, a slightly annoyed look on his face. "I was filled in this morning on your situation, and as horrible as it is I think you've given me the best possible opportunity to call up a much-needed group intervention. You and the others," he gaze pointedly slid over to Tony, who was suddenly very interested in his thermos. "Who have guilt complexes and a tendency to stop taking care of themselves in favor of others," his gaze then slid to Peter, who was also suddenly engrossed in his fifth bowl of cereal. "Need to get together and have this long overdue talk. It would be better if Peter didn't have school, but we'll just have to drag him to another of these meetings in the future."

"You're already planning _more?"_ Tony asked, incredulous. Banner nodded seriously.

"Natasha is already gathering the people I believe need to attend."

Foggy was still sniggering next to me. "Now it's just _ironic_ that Matt isn't awake to come," he whispered to me, making me glare at him out of the side of my eye. He just smiled at me unrepentantly.

"Don't sneak away Tony, your presence is _mandatory,_ you're one of the worst ones," Bruce drawled sharply right as Tony was trying to make a quick escape. He spun around, holding his arms out to either side of his body indignantly.

"Oh come on, Banner! I own this building, you can't order me around!"

"I'll tell Pepper."

Silence.

"But on second thought, this whole thing sounds like a train wreck waiting to happen, and I want to be present to see the carnage," he changed his tune instantly, the billionaire popping himself down on the couch. Foggy and I were not even bothering to hide our snickers at that.

W-h-i-p-p-e-d.

Right then, in walked the woman herself. The sight of a natural ginger made me relax, the hair color itself just being associated with comfort for me at that point. I had actually never met Pepper before, but I had seen her in magazines and online enough to know what she looked like.

(Plus, MJ was a total fangirl. I would never say that to her face, I valued my dignity, but MJ absolutely had a celebrity crush on Pepper. No doubt in my mind.)

Foggy straightened up immediately.

"Welp, that looks like Karen's long lost twin so I'm out. I value my life," Foggy said, but gave Pepper a dazzling smile away before making a beeline to the elevator. I just watched him go.

"Explain?" Pepper asked, turning to Tony.

"That was my dad's best friend, Miss Potts. My dad's other best friend is Karen, and… Friday?" I asked the AI for help, who dutifully pulled up a hologram of my aunt figure. "All the mannerisms and everything are too similar, Foggy was instantly intimidated."

Pepper had turned to look at me when I started answering for her fiancée, and gave me a small smile.

"Oh, you must be Peter's friend Hebi!" She said cheerfully, seeming to ignore everything I had just said. Seeing an opportunity, I nodded with a tired grin.

"Yeah, it's nice to finally meet you, Miss Potts. I was just about to head back to get dressed for school—"

Pepper's smile turned knowing. "Not a chance. I was filled in on what's going on, and you're staying here. I'll be floating around when I'm not in a meeting or dealing with something important for SI, so you won't be stuck with these adrenaline junkies _all_ day."

I slumped, sighing through my nose. Plan one, thwarted.

Tony snorted at his place on the couch, smirking. "Nice try. Steve should be down soon, he can make you breakfast—don't think I can't see that piece of toast you're trying to hide," the billionaire remarked casually, making me look down to where my mostly untouched toast was hidden behind my crossed arms on the counter.

Plan two, failed.

I took a sip of my water bottle, feeling annoyance starting to join my veritable ocean of antipathy. The gaping emptiness I felt had only been growing, despite Peter's usually grounding presence.

Said teenage hero was off to get dressed after his tenth bowl of cereal was emptied. I stared at the reused dish, reaching out to grab the mostly emptied gallon of milk and box of Cocoa Puffs, shaking my head. Spider metabolism. Made me glad I was part snake instead, with a metabolism as fast as Peter's I wouldn't have survived a week on the streets. I put the things back, needing something to distract myself and using being productive as that distraction. Except, five seconds later I was done and aimless again.

At least, until Steve came down with Bucky, and Natasha. I tilted my head, that was less than I thought she had been about to drag down. Steve headed straight to the stove, looking over at me with a soft smile.

"Morning, you're up early. Sleep alright, Hebi?" He asked as Bucky went to sit down next to Tony. The two sulked side by side at being forced into that "group therapy" session. I shrugged.

"I mean. I guess," I answered blandly, leaning against the counter. "I didn't have a second nightmare at least. I have WickedTea orders to make and send out, by the—"

"Here is that bag you wanted me to bring up for you, Tony," Vision's voice interrupted me, the Android phasing through the walls with a large cloth bag in hand. I could faintly smell the ingredients, and sighed. "I believe these are for you, Miss Hebi."

I nodded, shoulders drooping. "Yeah. Thanks, Vision, our them on the counter for me?" The Android nodded, dropping the bag down gently where I had asked before silently leaving again. The bags softly clinked as the glass jars inside knocked gently against one another. Tony was smirking at me.

"Oh yeah, Nelson brought those over. He was having a hard time carrying it though, so I just had him leave it in the lobby and asked Vision to carry it up for us. Now you can put together whatever orders you need, and I can ship them off for you."

I grumbled under my breath as Steve cooked behind me, barely registering Bruce in the background talking to Tony and setting the things in place for the group therapy. There were collapsed mailing boxes, a printed list of the open orders, several sheets of printed shipping labels, a roll of clear packaging tape, empty tea jars, ribbon, a pair of scissors, and of course the many jars of dried herbs and the measuring cups/spoons necessary for actually making the mixtures. Foggy had even included the WickedTea sticker and cardboard labels, and a large bag of shredded packing paper.

Damn him and his intelligence.

I went around the counter to sit on a stool, making myself busy with slipping on gloves (also included damn it) and working on the first order. Sunny Citrus herbal tea, 2oz jar. Engineer Lifeblood (my Tony-themed black tea blend) 4oz jar, and a Scarlet Magic (guess who inspired that one) red rooibos tea, sample bag. I pulled out the things I needed, starting with the small resealable paper bag for the sampler and the two different sized empty jars.

I had just finished shaking up the 2oz jar of finished tea, getting everything well mixed together, when Steve plopped a small bowl of soup in front of me. I immediately stalled my motions, staring at it in surprise.

"Uh," I said dumbly, looking down at it. Steve just chuckled.

"Miss Page left a list of things to know about you and your habits behind before she left. She said your dad liked making traditional Japanese foods so you grew closer to your heritage, and that they had become a sort of comfort food for you."

The scent of miso soup rose to my nose, making me set my glass jar down and gingerly take the spoon.

"But, How..?" I asked, knowing he didn't have much reason to know how to make miso soup. I glanced up just in time to see him rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I need less sleep than a normal human, so I sometimes stay up late trying random recipes if I'm not painting. Luckily, I've made this a few times already during a few of those nights, so all I had to do was ask Tony to order the ingredients."

I shook my head, still not really sure how to handle this kindness. I had gotten significantly better accepting kind gestures since being adopted by Matt, but that situation was still weird. I hadn't had very many conversations with Steve, I figured to most— if not all— of the Avengers, I was just Peter's friend and occasional backup. Not someone worth going to a whole bunch of trouble for—I was still a stranger to most of them!

I just.

I didn't get it.

I took a shallow spoonful of broth, raising it up to my lips and sipping. It scalded my tongue, but that didn't matter. It was good.

I just didn't get why so many people were so willing to do nice things for me even before they knew me very well. First Matt, and Foggy and Karen, then Peter and MJ and Ned and even Hank eventually, but he took more time. Then Bucky and Natasha and Clint…

I took another sip even as I stared at the light brown soup in bewilderment, feeling something wet slide down my cheeks.

It just didn't make sense.

Then Steve, and even Wanda had tried to comfort me despite us still being strangers too.

"Hebi?"

I just couldn't understand.

"Do you like it? Hebi?" Steve's soft voice cracked through my thought process on the second try, making me look up with my spoon halfway in my mouth. He was giving me a soft, lopsided smile although his eyes were worried and darted down to my cheeks briefly. I blinked, wiping away my tears with my free hand and taking a deep breath through my nose. Swallowing my mouthful, I nodded and put the spoon back in the bowl. It was already half empty.

"Yeah. Yeah it's really good Steve, I… just… thanks," I almost whispered the last part, but knew he could hear me clear as day. His smile widened a bit, and he patted me on the back. After a moment of surprised stiffness I relaxed and let out a sigh.

I wanted to eat more soup, but I was already feeling full. But… but miso soup. Matt hadn't made any in weeks. Unfortunately, my metabolism was still only at about fifty percent. It was always a little more difficult to maneuver it around when it lowered out of necessity in the first place rather than it being my choice, so it would take me at least the rest of the day to push back up to a hundred percent.

" _Mister Rogers, my sensors tell me that Hebi's metabolism is functioning below average. She will not be able to finish her soup."_

I huffed, looking away from the super soldier in slight embarrassment. I hated wasting food. It was almost a crime.

"I can sip on it during the intervention thing Bruce wants," I offered softly, glancing up at the bowl. Suddenly more aware than before, I glanced up to the now cold slice of toast from before, frowning. No, I couldn't waste that either. Even if it made my stomach roll. My hand was halfway extended to it, only to be replaced by a larger one that snatched it before I could. Blinking in confusion, I watched as Steve took a huge bite out of it and winked at me.

Of course he understood. He and Bucky grew up in the forties, food was precious for them too. I let my shoulders slump, rubbing the back of my neck as I was caught.

"Thanks, again," I told the blond with a lopsided smile as he took another huge bite of the cold bread.

"No problem. Just try to sip at the soup, but don't force yourself to eat anything. We'll have to work a little slowly. Now come bring that bowl over to the couches before Stark comes up with a way to escape."

I nodded, cradling the bowl in between my palms and walking over with Steve right behind me. When I sat down on the couch opposite Tony and Bucky, the blond chose to sit next to me rather than his boyfriend. I raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off.

I was there to be babysat, after all.

I slipped a spoon of the classic Japanese breakfast soup into my mouth, but didn't immediately swallow. I let it just linger there for a bit, savoring the flavor on my enhanced taste buds. The scent and taste almost overwhelmed my tongue in the best way.

I still didn't understand. But maybe that was okay.

I tended to understand darker stuff best anyway, so maybe confusion was a good sign.

"Alright," Bruce spoke out loud. "I'm only staying because you guys will all back out if I don't. Obviously we don't have to do the traditional introducing yourself thing, but I want everyone to name one time that you failed to take care of yourself in favor of something you justified as 'more important' than your health," he instructed us, putting finger quotations over the words _more important_.

Nobody made a move to speak.

Bruce glared.

Tony bit the bullet, sighing. "Yeah, taking care of myself is a recent thing, so," he waved a hand dismissively. "Hard to—"

"Nope, you know at least one instance. Come on, Tony. It doesn't have to be anything too personal."

The billionaire grumbled.

"I let myself get shot," I spoke up, realizing someone had to break the tension and knowing that it would probably be easiest for me. I was younger, less experienced. They didn't expect me to say anything serious—which is why they shot their eyes to me in shock. I sighed, running a hand through my short hair. "I, uh, didn't always do the best things to get by on the streets. Mainly when I was younger and didn't have as many options. Back closer to when Matt first met me, we ran into a guy who remembered one of the shitty things I did. He broke into our apartment and said that I was better off dead. The first thing I thought was that Matt had just gotten guardianship, and he'd be blamed if I suddenly ended up dead in his apartment. So I drew the guy away, jumped out the fire escape and led him away from Matt to keep him safe legally and health wise. But when the guy shot, I didn't dodge."

I decided proof was in order and, even though the half-true story I was telling actually matched one of the bullet wounds on my torso, I wasn't about to pull my shirt up and show them the rest of the ugly mess of scars there. Instead, I pushed down my left sleeve and showed the lone bullet mark there that I kept hidden most of the time.

Kinda sad that I had options to choose from in that regard.

A collective breath seemed to come from the other men.

"Good start, thank you Hebi," I jumped at that voice, turning to Sam. He was sitting on the couch next to Banner by then—I had looked at the ground during my whole story—and it threw me off that I hadn't noticed him come in. I furrowed my brows, opening my mouth to speak But Banner cut me off.

"I can't stay, and I'm not the best at this kinda thing anyway. Like I said, I needed to make sure none of you would run off. Sam is a licensed therapist who usually works with veterans, he's better qualified to take over here," the scientist explained to me patiently before standing up, giving up a short wave, and leaving. I looked over to Sam, who offered a friendly smile.

"I was going to talk to you today, anyway, Hebi. Especially after last night," I wrinkled my nose and looked away at that reminder. "Don't worry, it's normal to have things you struggle with. But we'll get to that later, when I have a chance to talk to you in private," Sam then looked up to the others and raised a brow. "Come on guys, the girl just gave you a personal story. Who's next?"

"I almost let Bucky kill me, back when he was still the Winter Soldier," Steve admitted softly, making my eyes blow wide. Everyone relaxed after that, and I realized something.

Tony and Bucky could have left.

Banner was no match for either of them unless he was hulked out, if either of them _honestly_ wanted out, they would have left. I let my gaze trail over to Sam, who met my gaze and seemed to understand my thought process. He winked before refocusing on Steve as he told his story.

If Sam had been down there, Tony and Bucky might have felt more pressured to stay, and therefore more uncomfortable—which would defeat the purpose or even cause harm— or more likely to leave anyway. Steve had stayed in the kitchen with me even when I was eating my soup.

Those conniving geniuses, they made sure Bucky and Tony never actually felt pressured to stay, so that they weremore likely _to_ stay and actually _get help._

Yet another reason never to piss off the Avengers. They had intelligence and it wouldn't always be obvious what they were up to until it was too late.

—*—*—*—*—*

The rest of the group therapy/intervention/whatever it was supposed to be went by smoothly. A few tears were shed, a few burdens were lifted, a lot of understanding and bonding was achieved. Especially when it came to the adults understanding Hebi.

They had never expected the girl to have a gunshot scar, and it only raised questions about her past while also answering questions about her personality. They knew something was up, what Hebi had said when she said "when I was younger," didn't have the air of someone talking about their early teens. It sounded like she meant even _younger_ , which would fall under the time her biological father supposedly isolated and neglected her. That obviously didn't match up.

But the adults not in the loop already just pushed the thought to the back of their heads—after all, they knew what people said about assuming things. They'd figure it out eventually, if they were meant to.

Hebi spent most of the day mindlessly putting together the teas for the WickedTea orders, interspersed with either Steve, Tony, Sam, or Clint checking in on her, trying to give her something to eat or drink, or just sitting down to talk to or distract her.

That first day, they only had one scare around dinner time. Peter, already home from school by then, was the one to walk into the room and spot the other teen with her hand on the window. It was one of the windows that opened so that Peter could come and go as Spider-man without any hassle.

He knew Hebi knew that. She always noticed details like that.

So, the teen hero was already watching his friend carefully when it happened. Sure, Hebi could have just been admiring the skyline. Peter just didn't think so.

Sure enough, Hebi slid the window open and pulled a knife out of nowhere, going to slam it into the wall of the tower. All it took was one hell from Peter before Clint was there, pressing the pressure point in Hebi's wrist to make her drop the knife. The weapon fell into Clint's other hand, where he tossed it so it fell harmlessly under one of the sofas and allowed him to wrestle the smaller girl away from the window. Peter took over by ordering Friday to close and lock it before going over to his friend.

The first thing Hebi saw was Peter's eyebrows drawn low over his eyes, and she flinched.

"I did the mental math. That was Natasha's vibranium dagger, I would have made it down fine," she tried, letting Clint sit her down on a stool at the kitchen counter. Peter just crossed his arms. "I would have! And I don't lose my grip easily. I would have been—"

"Where did you even get Nat's knife, Hebi?" Peter asked, eyes flicking over to the redhead spy. Romanoff was staring at her leg before raising her head to stare at Hebi.

"You pick pocketed me," she stayed simply, her voice casual on the surface. Peter and the other Avengers weren't fooled though; Natasha was surprised. "I made sure to conceal all my knives just as well as I usually do in my civilians. I guess I need to change it up."

Hebi frowned, knowing it was only her sense of smell that allowed her to detect the placements of Natasha's weapons.

"You can't take knives, Hebi. In fact, you shouldn't be stealing weapons of any kind," Peter pressed. Hebi just tapped her fingers on the counter, staring off into space.

"I know. I know. God, I have t even _held_ a knife that wasn't for cooking in…" she trailed off, trying to remember. "A long time. But I just— it's been a whole _day,_ and I haven't been contacted by—"

"If you had patience," a familiar female voice said from the suddenly opened elevator, sounding very unamused. "I just got here, Hebi. Matt's doing better, his infection is finally dealt with and his fever is slowly going down. Now what happened?"

The window had been facing the back of the building, which wasn't in plain public view. Karen wouldn't know what had almost happened.

So Steve and Tony told her, and that sparked a very heated (and panicked) scolding that _definitely_ reminded people of Pepper. Even Pepper herself, who was standing by the stove with Natasha and imagining Tony in Hebi's place.

" _Reckless_ , irresponsible, dangerous—!"

Yeah, it wasn't hard for Pepper to imagine at all.

"—once your dad is lucid, I am telling him about this and you are going to get the lecture of your life that makes me look like an amateur. Complete with blind glares and silent bouts of disappointment."

And grounding from patrol, for sure. Hebi flinched at that thought, not wanting to be separated from Matt for a _second_ once he was better. Being grounded from patrol would be torture.

Dinner went without a hitch, Hebi's metabolism back up to normal and her appetite passable. Barely, but passable.

The next day, Karen came in the morning (when Hebi once again tried to convince Tony and Pepper to allow her to go to school with Peter, an idea which was steadfastly vetoed) with a cloth bag over her shoulder opposite the one that held her purse. The bag was empty, and she handed it to the slightly groggy teen. She had had another nightmare and once again needed Steve to console her. She decided she officially liked him, even if he bewildered her with his illogical kindness, if he was willing to sit there and pat her back while she sobbed silently and snottily into his white shirt without a single complaint.

Hebi took the empty bag from Karen, raising an eyebrow. Her aunt figure was oddly happy and energetic even though she had to have had the night shift watching Matt.

"Fill this up with any orders you finished, and I'll ship them off on my way to my interview," she told the younger girl happily, which made Hebi freeze.

"Interview?"

Peter was munching on eggs and bacon next to her, which Tony had made (and was still making). Both males turned to watch what was going on, sensing the sudden tension with the younger girl.

"Huh? Yeah, my interview at the New York Bulletin. I've got a really good shot at landing the job," Karen's voice was still light and excited, until she saw Hebi's face and picked up on the teen's tension. "Hebi? Oh no," Karen's face fell. "Matt didn't tell you."

"You're quitting?" Hebi's voice was the tiniest Peter had ever heard it, vulnerable. Tony turned off the stove, sliding the last two eggs onto Peter's plate while still paying the two women all his attention. "But—but who will be our secretary? And who will keep Matt and Foggy from screwing around? And—"

"Hebi," Karen put her hand on the teen's shoulders gently, Hebi refused to meet her eyes. "Matt and Foggy are already looking into a replac—" she stopped at Hebi's flinch, quickly rewording her sentence, "into finding a new secretary. They knew I didn't want to be a paper shuffler my whole life, even you knew that."

"So… at the New York Bulletin? You trade paper for more paper?" Hebi's tone was bitter. Karen's lips thinned.

"Do you know the name Ben Ulrich?"

Hebi blinked at the sudden topic change, scrunching her eyebrows. "Ulrich? Yeah, isn't he the best investigative reporter the Bulletin h—" it seemed to click in Hebi's head as her face fell slack. Karen nodded.

"He was murdered by Fisk not long before Matt and Foggy were able to that bastard arrested. Ben… he helped me investigate Fisk, Hebi. It's only because of him that we got the evidence we needed to put that jerkwad behind bars, he was my _friend_ , and he got killed for exposing a criminal. The Bulletin needs a new investigate reporter, Hebi. The editor Mitchell Ellison? He offered me Ben's job."

Only Tony noticed the slight flinch Peter gave at that, unable to separate Ulrich from Parker in his head for a moment. It passed quickly.

Hebi was frowning. "You're going to put a target on your back. I know you Karen, you're gonna go straight for the big bads."

The blond didn't argue that, just smirking sadly. "Do I get a membership badge to the club then, Miss Part-Time Vigilante?" Hebi snorted, shoulders slumping. Karen rustled her hair kindly. "Ben taught me everything he could before he was killed. I can be good at this, I get get _better_ , I can _do something._ And yeah, I'll be a target. But you've helped me with self defense, and I really want to do this Hebi. It won't keep me from visiting all the time, though. You won't get rid of me that easily."

Hebi nodded, offering the older woman a weak smile. "I better not. Uh, here," the teen hastily shoved three boxes into the bag Karen had offered. "That's all I got finished yesterday. You, uh, don't want to be late if this interview is that important for you."

Karen's smile softened, and she kissed Hebi on the forehead before shouldering the bag, offering the boys still present a wave, and leaving.

Hebi wasted no time after Karen left before slumping over the kitchen counter with a groan of despair. Peter patted her back.

"This sucks," Hebi moaned. "First, Matt's sick and I lose a few extra screws in my head. Now Karen's quitting— and I know she's going to do a great job. I know she's going to make a difference. But goddamn it, I'm worried about _her_ now. At least I can protect her when she's at the office, but if she's going around town investigating the lowlifes of New York City?" Hebi covered the back of her head with her hands. "I'm not in the right state to deal with this shit. I should be proud of her, right? I should. But all I can think of right now—"

Is _dead body dead body dead body,_ Hebi finished silently, trailing off outloud and not letting Tony or Peter know what was on her mind.

Regardless, both men had been there before. They knew. Hebi didn't have to say it; they understood. Peter pulled Hebi into a tight side-hug, as much as he could with her covering her head on the countertop. He felt her muscles slightly relax under his grip.

Hebi made a break for the elevator he Moment it opened for Peter— FRIDAY was faster.

"Come on, squirt. I'll heat up some of Cap's leftover soup for you."

Hebi abandoned her failed mission and gravitated towards the promise of miso soup.

— ***—*—*—*—***

**Also, I was reading some of the Amazing Spider-Man 2015, and in issue #13 Spider-Man and Tony fight. Not super seriously, it's… kinda funny. Ngl. Cuz Peter owns his own global Corporation, Parker Industries, and Tony starts telling Spider-Man about thinking that Parker's stuff is sub-par without knowing who he was speaking to… and it devolves into a glorified cat fight. Miles Morales is there (who both of them were supposed to be training at the time) and he is just so** _**done.** _ **He even mentions being embarrassed about them acting like man children. It's great. Peter makes a remark about being flown by Iron Man as being a benefit on "the Stark Industries Kickstarter page" and I lost it. Then Stark calls Parker's inventions "glorified iPhones" and they just start insulting one another's tech… it's great. 10/10 best immaturity ever. Omg. And then Miles gets kidnapped which makes them then forgive each other for both being idiots, and shit proceeds to get real.**

**Also, is it just me or does Marvel like Mary Jane too much? I've always hated her character for some reason, her entire personality kind of grates on me and I don't know why. It was the only major thing I ever disliked about Spider-Man comics, but I fell in love with Gwen and then they killed her… I just don't get it. Is it because redheads are supposed to be hotter? We all know the obsession Marvel seems to have with emphasizing the female body, if you know what I mean. Which, comics books, I get it. Kinda. But that's one reason I wrote Hebi as being the same height as Peter, and being generally slim but muscular and flat chested (mostly), and heavily scarred with really short hair. Fight the stereotypes! They've gotten better over the years, but still needs work.**

**Seriously though, have you ever seen anybody with real gunshot, burn, and/or stab wound scars? Those things hardly ever end up as aesthetic as media makes them out to be, and I wanted to portray that in Hebi. Sure, she doesn't have any noticeable scars on most of her arms, neck/collarbone area, or face, but the rest of her is marked pretty badly. It's not pretty, my friends. I explained the scars on the front of her body for you, but these are not aesthetic scars, they are raised and jagged and messy and a lot of people would even say ugly. They are real scars, like they would appear in real life. Thrusting a seven year old into life as a mercenary isn't gonna be easy on their body after all, especially since she doesn't have a healing factor. Not everyone can come out as clean as hotshot Natalia Alianova Romanova, possible relation to the Czars of Russia.**

**Seriously that woman's background is convoluted.**

**Guess who partially inspired Hebi, heh.**

**P.S: I know this chapter ended awkwardly. I wanted a whole other scene, but it would have been too long and awkwardly placed so… next chapter we'll finish up this mini arc and move on!**

**Thank you so much for reading and as always,**

**See you next chapter~**


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pro tip (ha, as if I’m a pro): if you write in a word processor and upload your file to Fanfiction.net’s Doc Manager (or just write in doc manager), then A03 will keep all of your formatting when you copy and paste from the Doc Manager into AO3.

"Hebi?" Sam asked at lunch on that second day, after Hebi was scraping up the last of her (small) bowl of cheddar soup. She blinked up at him, watching as he polished off the last bite of his own grilled sandwich before swallowing and leaning towards her. "I didn't get a chance yesterday, but do you want to go to your room or anywhere you'd be more comfortable to talk?"

Oh.

Therapy time.

Hebi immediately swung her head to the trio of spies, who were scattered around the room. Natasha was talking to Wanda, Clint was facetiming his children, and Bucky was eating some of the extra cheddar soup, in the process of dipping his sandwich in it when he met her gaze. He just raised an eyebrow, glanced at Sam, and then shrugged at the girl. Hebi looked from Sam to Bucky and back again, before pouting.

Bucky shook his head. "You're on your own Hebi. Talking to Sam should do you some good, but if you're too uncomfortable just tell him and you can back out," the super soldier said reasonably. Hebi's pout turned genuine.

"Fine," she muttered to Sam, standing up. "I guess we could go to my room," her room, of course, being the guest room she had been spending the night in. Her ripped blanket had already been replaced—she assumed Bucky or Clint had noticed it and taken care of it for her.

Speaking of, the archer saw Hebi stand up and smiled widely, waving her over to him and the tablet he was on. "Hey! Come meet the kids, Hebi," he offered, making the teen freeze in place.

Kids?

"Clint," she signed, suddenly unable to work her throat properly. "I'm not good with kids."

The blond raised an eyebrow, his sharp eyes analyzing her as she stood rigidly in place. Understanding passed through his face. "Oh, right. I forgot you were sick. Sorry Lila, Cooper. Maybe you can say hi to Hebi some other time," there was a chorus of "awwhs" from the other side of the screen. Hebi took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

Lila. Cooper. A boy and a girl.

No. No she needed out before she could have a completely Matt-unrelated breakdown. Turning around, she ignored the weight of Sam's gaze on her and made a beeline to the elevator. The certified therapist was not far behind.

"...Want to start with whatever that was?" He asked gently, not looking at her. He knew she needed space, and was trying to give it as much as he could in the tiny metal box. Hebi took a slow, deep breath before shaking her head.

"I'll be honest…" she started slowly, voice hesitant even as the doors opened up onto their floor and they started to walk out to her room. "I don't think we'll get anywhere. No offense, Sam, but I don't know you. Spilling my heart out to a virtual stranger, Avenger or not, goes against all my self preservation instincts."

Sam opened the door to her guest room for her, not responding until the girl sat on the bed and he made himself comfortable in a chair facing her.

"You're comfortable around the spies. What's different? Is it because you four train together?" He asked, honest curiosity laced in his voice. Hebi grinned wryly, knowing from Peter that the whole team knew that Clint, Natasha, and Bucky knew more about her than they did. If Peter caught onto their extra knowledge so easily, she knew the rest of the team had to have, too.

"You could say that," she said carefully, looking up at the ceiling in thought as she leaned back onto her palms. "I'd appreciate if you kept Tony or anyone else from trying to figure out what I told them about me, by the way. It's bad enough I had the details of my past snooped into once already by Avengers," she leveled Sam with a firm glance, and he raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. He hadn't expected her to know that the team was curious about what the three spies knew about her but wouldn't say.

"If it was important for us to know, they would tell us," Sam leaned back in his chair, going out of his way to assume the least threatening position possible. It didn't go unnoticed by Hebi. "Tony knows that, so do the others. I admit, the billionaire can be a nosy ass," that earned him a snort from the teen, and his lips quirked up in one corner before he continued. "But he trusts Nat, though he'll never admit it. He's known her longer than all of us, I think, except Barton of course. If Nat tells him it's not something he needs to know, he probably won't look into it unless you do something to spark his nosiness."

Hebi hummed noncommittally, closing her eyes.

"Where do you want to start, then?" He asked gently after a moment of silence. "How about why you're so worried about your dad?"

Hebi didn't answer for a long moment, but he way she was tapping her fingers soundlessly on the blanket under her let Sam know that she was thinking about how to respond.

"Father figures are a sore subject for me," the girl told the older man casually. "I don't need a therapist or psychiatrist to psychoanalyze me. I know where my problems are, I know what they stem from. But knowing that shit doesn't miraculously make it easier to deal with," she snapped her eyes open, pinning him with her gaze. The green flecks in her hazel eyes seemed to shimmer amongst the hazel-brown and soft blue. "You know the basics. I got daddy issues, he neglected me and forced me to learn Japanese so that I didn't inconvenience him by making him speak English more than strictly necessary. He left me alone in an empty room and went off and died."

"Wouldn't that make you less caring about your dad now, then? Is this really about your biological _father?"_

Hebi snapped her mouth shut, clenching her jaw. Of course it wasn't, but she had hoped Sam wouldn't point it out, had hoped he would take the hint and change the subject to her lie. But he didn't, he somehow brought the subject right back to the truth without even knowing just how much the topic she had tried to go down was false.

Sam didn't push her, he waited patiently as she sorted through her thoughts and knew better than to try and get more specific. The teen was smart, he didn't need to elaborate for her or thrust the wounds open more than necessary.

"We don't need to talk about it then, do we?" Was her whispered answer. Sam knew, then, that he had hit a wall. Hebi would not open up any further to him. "We know the reasoning, I told you I didn't need psychoanalyzing. So why don't you give me some bullshit advice and we can get this over with, huh?"

The former soldier frowned, meeting her eyes easily and just staring at her for a long and tense moment. "Maybe talking is what you need to do. This is unhealthy Hebi, this level of dependence—"

"Don't," she interrupted him, barely controlled fury under her voice. "I told you we wouldn't get anywhere. I don't trust you, and I don't want to just pour my emotions out to you. You don't _know_ me. Matt knows me, Clint and Natasha and Bucky are _getting_ to know me. I've been really damn patient, Sam. I know you're doing this because you just want to help, so I let you try to do this whole therapy thing with me. And yeah, what I'm doing is shitty and not the best for my health—I get it. I'm not oblivious and I'm not stupid," her hands lifted from the bed, curling into fists as she leaned forward and placed her arms on her knees. "But you don't get to point out my dependence on Matt and call it a bad thing. Excessive, maybe, I can understand that. But you don't understand what my relationship to him _means._ You don't understand what it means for me to even _have it_. You come from a big family right? Caring, loud, the kind people like me dream of probably," turning the analysis on him made Sam straighten up and lock his jaw. "Stick with coaching PTSD. You're probably better at helping with things you can actually empathize with."

Sam left not long after that backhanded statement, and Hebi felt a sharp pang of regret for bringing up his own issues when the session was supposed to be about her. Her anger and defensiveness drowned the feeling out though, and the teen crawled under her blankets with both those emotions and her reopened wounds dragging at her energy.

"I'm going to sleep, Friday. Could you make sure nobody disturbs me until dinner?"

" _Very well, Hebi."_

—*—*—*—*—*

"Hey, I know I'm a bit early, but…" Foggy looked around, frowning. Dinner dishes were piled in the sink, the last of the food sitting out on the counter where it would inevitably be consumed as a snack by one of the males with a super metabolism that resided in the house before it could be put away as leftovers. The sun was already below the horizon, making the room dark as the tv was the only source of light besides the residual light from the streets outside. "Where's Hebi?"

Sure enough, the female teen was the only figure missing from those in the room. Tony was sprawled over one couch with Peter squished up next to him, Bucky and Steve cuddled on the other couch with just enough space left at the end for Clint to sit on the arm with his feet on the cushions, Wanda and Vision were curled on together on the loveseat, and Natasha, Sam, and Rhodey were laying down with pillows on the ground. Tony looked up, taking in the slightly familiar figure of the blonde lawyer and frowning.

"That's a good question. She's been down in her room since lunch, Friday?"

" _Hebi has been asleep since she finished her session with Mister Wilson,"_ Foggy instinctually cringed at the name, despite knowing that they weren't talking about Wilson _Fisk. "She has had three nightmares, but specifically asked for nobody to be informed. She went back to sleep immediately after each one."_

The movie playing on the TV immediately paused, and Tony and Peter sat up with matching frowns.

"That's…" Peter started, trying to find the right words. "Nightmares usually stop you from sleeping, right? I mean…" he looked around the room. "Pretty much all of us are insomniacs because of them. Mister Nelson, does Hebi…"

"Sleep a lot?" The man asked when Hebi's best friend trailed off. The lawyer shook his head, walking over to the kitchen counter and setting down his briefcase and a plastic bag. "No. She's a workaholic and has chronic nightmares, she constantly complains about only getting three or four hours of sleep on a good night. But…" he ran a hand through his hair, then let out a heavy sigh as he turned around and sank onto a stool. "Back in the summer, closer to when Matt first adopted her, something happened that they wouldn't tell me about. They fought about something, apparently involving a gunshot wound they didn't let me see," his face twisted into annoyance for a moment before smoothing back out into concern. "Hebi got so upset that she was hardly _awake_ for the whole week. That's how she copes— the exact opposite side of the 'unhealthy' spectrum from most people," the man rubbed a hand over his face. "I can't believe I forgot to warn you, if you let her sleep when she's like this she probably won't let herself stay awake for longer than five or ten minutes at a time."

"In spite of the pain of her night terrors" was something that went unsaid. Everyone else understood that without it having to be voiced.

"So, since you _are_ here early," Steve broke the silence, standing up. "Do you want to go see her? How's Murdock?"

Foggy smiled gratefully at the subject change, uncomfortable about revealing something like that without Hebi's permission but knowing it was for her own good. Hell knew she never revealed enough stuff on her own unless someone forced it out of her. She was usually all half-truths and heartfelt excuses.

"He's better. Much more coherent and his fever is almost completely gone. He's mainly just grumpy, low-energy, and trying very hard to escape us and work himself right back into sickness. That's why Karen's over there right now trying to make sure he doesn't sneak away to do late-night work at the office—"

Right then, Foggy's phone rang. He gave the Avengers an apologetic smile before turning and answering the call. The avengers that weren't heavily invested in Hebi (and the one still sore about her insult to him earlier) turned the movie back on, though they turned the volume down. However, it was soon interrupted by Foggy's exclamation of;

"I thought you locked the window!"

"A blind guy and a window?" Clint muttered in concern, but Tony shook his head.

"It has a fire escape, he probably knows how to use it just fine. I'm more curious about what their apparent familial obsession with windows is about."

Foggy interrupted whatever Clint's response was going to be, coming over with a frown and his briefcase in hand. "Sorry about that. As you can probably guess, Karen turned around to get him medicine and he slipped out of the fire escape. I'm gonna try to catch him and get him back home, sorry. The bag has a carton of ice cream—Hebi's favorite dessert. It does wonders when she's depressed. Thank you again!"

Just like that, Foggy was jogging away. He hadn't been gone for longer than a minute before the elevator doors opened again, and a groggy Hebi came out dressed in the same pajamas as that morning (she had never changed into proper day clothes, even at lunch), rubbing at her left eye.

"Well good morning sleepyhead!" Clint greeted cheerily, pretending that what Foggy had told them wasn't on his mind. "Finally decided to join the cool kids, huh?"

Hebi's mouth twisted down as she walked over and plopped onto the ground in front of the cuddled mass that was Peter and Tony.

"Couldn't stay asleep. Too much—is that ice cream?" Her eyes finally seemed to catch the bag on the counter, and the way the plastic cling to the condensation on the carton inside. As if overflowing with unseen energy, the girl spring forward and greedily snatched the carton up, tearing the bag away like wrapping from a Christmas present. "Sweet! Black cherry, Foggy remembered!" She grabbed a spoon before running back to her previous spot and digging in.

Almost immediately, her shoulders dropped and a single sniffle was heard. The movie's volume was turned up slightly to let her softly cry discreetly as she shoveled soft serve into her mouth.

The carton was long emptied and set off to the side when the elevator dinged. It was ten o'clock by then, and Tony sat up despite Peter's sleepy protests.

"That must be Pepp—" a head of red hair, in entirely the wrong shade, interrupted the billionaire. "Um, Friday?"

" _He asked to surprise Hebi, Boss."_

"Ah," the billionaire smiled, leaning back down and letting the redheaded lawyer hug the teen that had jumped up to meet him halfway.

The Avengers pretended to pay attention to the TV to give the two privacy, hoping that this meant that Hebi could relax and focus on healing _herself_ a bit more. After all, her own pain wasn't something that would go away with cold medicine and rest.

—*—*—*—*—*

I felt rather than heard Tony sit up, and looked back as he started saying that Pepper must have been back, considering she had told me that she would be back around ten I had been about to agree. That is, until my open mouth caught the scent of the very man I had been frantically worrying about for the last week.

I shot up immediately, my eyes taking in his rumpled red hair and the dark circles under his eyes. He was still a bit pale and flushed in areas, his temperature trying to cling by the tips of it's fingers to him. But he still stood tall, barely weighed down by how shitty he had to be feeling.

But my emotions didn't care so much about his physical state, because I ran up and threw myself right into his open arms. I breathed his scent in deeply as he wrapped his still-strong arms around me as tightly as he could and buried his face in my neck. The better to hear my pulse and catch my scent, which would probably be creepy to anyone other than us.

But we wore similar wounds, we understood. We had to make sure the other was _actually_ there, in every way we could. The feel of their skin and clothing under our arms, their scent heavy in the air around them, the feel of their heart pulsing—or sound of it, in his case. The sight of his hair and his back as he hugged me, in mine.

"Matt," I breathed through a sob. "You're— you're… I thought…"

"I know," he whispered back, impossibly tightening his hold. It didn't bother me of course, instead comforting me with the fact that he still had so much strength despite being sick and having been in bed for so long. He was awake, he was coherent, talking, walking.

He was okay. He would _be_ okay.

My next breath came in with a bone-deep shudder.

"I heard Karen and Matt talking about you yesterday, before they noticed I was awake," he whispered. "You can't shut down like that, Hebi. You can't scare Karen like that either, you know they were doing everything they could to help me."

"But—"

"No," he whispered, leaning back a bit and grinning lopsidedly. "Do you think I'd let a stab and a cold take me down? Because I'd have to rethink how well you know me if you do."

"The flu is particularly dangerous for the elderly, don't you know? I was justifiably worried for you," I replied impishly, even though I was still crying and my nose was running. I sniffed heavily, rubbing one eye with my wrist. Matt barked a hoarse laugh, cuffing me over the head.

"I'm not old, you cretin," he snapped back good-naturedly. Then his lips straightened out again. "I mean it though, Hebi. Not eating?"

I shrunk into myself, the fact that his eyes didn't meet mine not at all distracting from the very parental scolding he was giving. "I needed to take care of you…" I tried to defend myself weakly. He sighed, shaking his head.

"That's a lie, we both know what you were really up to. But I'm not going anywhere, you got it? I'm responsible for keeping you out of trouble, and that's a full-time job. Can't go slacking off or else you'll take over the world," his tone turned teasing towards the end, the familiar tone making me relax and slump right back into his chest.

A moment passed.

"I can't lose you," I managed to squeeze out, carefully tightening my grip. I didn't know exactly how much pressure he could handle, but I didn't wanna test it. Never with him. "I've lost everyone else, Dad. I can't lose you too, I've—"

"Shh," he softly shushed me, maneuvering us until we were sitting on the ground just outside of the circle of sofas and various Avenger piles. "You're not gonna lose me, Hebs. You're stuck with me. Murdock stubbornness, remember? We don't stay down even if we want to."

I let out a watery chuckle at that, nodding into his chest and taking another trembling breath.

"Yeah," I agreed shakily. "Yeah. The world shoves you down and you punch it in the face, what was I thinking? Mister 'I would totally be able to disarm a bomb even though I'm blind,' obviously a flu wouldn't get you," I let out a tiny giggle at that, and Matt chuckled—and then I chuckled, and he laughed, and in a matter of seconds were both full-out bellowing while clutching each other tightly.

Yeah. Matt would be okay. I wasn't going to magically stop worrying about him, but maybe it would be a touch easier. After all, he was still here. He wasn't killed because of my lack of attention, or the infection that followed, or the flu.

It would be a while, and neither of us would completely heal from our invisible wounds, but we'd be okay. Both of us.

"Does that mean I have to worry if you get the flu, Dad? I totally forgot it was dangerous for the elderly!"

" _Peter, you little—"_

Soon we weren't the only ones guffawing, and I pulled away from Matt to send my tear-clouded eyes over the others in the room as Tony chased Peter around in mock anger.

Maybe I had more than just Dad now, and had ignored it the whole time. Maybe they were there to stay, too.

—*—*—*—*—*

"Hey, Hebi," the voice made me stiffen from where I was packing my stuff. Matt was in the guest room bed, none of us in the Tower wanting to have him go home when it was already so late. So, Tony has called Foggy and Karen to let them know that he was sleeping over, and I had spent the night curled up next to my dad.

The sunlight that streamed in through the window almost blinded me as I turned around to face Sam, shifting awkwardly on my feet. I knew that what I had said to him had been a really low blow. It wasn't cool at all to call out somebody else's mental issues, but hell if he hadn't asked for it. I still wasn't exactly happy with him, but I was self aware enough to know that I had crossed a line.

Too bad I wasn't exactly going to tell him that. There was no way I was going to apologize first.

"Yeah?" I asked, my tone sharp and a bit impatient. "And be quiet, my dad's a light sleeper," I jerked my head to indicate the definitely-already-awake-and-listening Matt just as he flopped over to his opposite side and grumbled unintelligibly under his breath grumpily.

The former soldier sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before looking up at me.

"Look. I know I probably went too fast during that session yesterday. But I'm just trying to help—"

"Acting like I'm some character in a practice therapy book isn't the way to do it," I interrupted tensely, crossing my arms. "Look, I get it okay? You have good intentions. But you aren't going to be able to just decipher me right away. I'm not a normal kid, I don't have normal issues, and you can't expect me to spill my guts when I've barely had a full conversation with you. You can't just call my dependency on my dad unhealthy, because you don't know me well enough for that. This is the healthiest I've ever felt, being with him _helps._ And I'm not overly dependent, not as much as you clearly seem to think. I go to school without an issue, I come over and spend a lot of time with Peter here at the Tower, I don't _need_ to spend every minute with my dad. This past week was an exception, yes it got unhealthy, but you don't know all the reasons behind _that_ either. And no, I won't tell you. We're not there yet."

"I know," he replied patiently, making me blink dumbly at him. I hadn't expected him to agree without an argument. "Look, I've dealt with other people who don't trust easily. Plenty of patients I've had don't open up right away. I normally wouldn't have just walked out, but you can probably understand why I _did,_ right?"

I didn't answer verbally. He knew I did. He nodded after meeting my gaze for a long moment.

"But I _do_ want to help. So how about you come back once a week, maybe see me after your weekly training with the Spy Trio? We can just talk. About anything, maybe I can get to know you before we try any real therapy. Does that sound okay?"

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, but Sam just grinned knowingly.

"I'll take back my attitude if you take back yours, deal?"

I pretended to think about it seriously for a moment, wanting to make it look like I hadn't already decided my answer. After a few seconds of pursing my lips slightly, I sighed and turned my gaze back into him. I nodded solidly, and grinned back at him.

"You drive a hard bargain, I _do_ really like my attitude," I teased slyly, making the man roll his eyes. "But that sounds like a decent deal I guess. Next week then, after my training?"

"As long as you take a shower first. Talking to a sweaty teenager isn't anywhere on my bucket list, thank you very much," he snarked back dryly, but I didn't miss his smirk as he turned and left with a backwards wave. "Next week it is. See ya then, Hebi."

"...what happened yesterday?" Matt's slightly sleepy voice asked once Sam was out of ear shot, my father figure pushing himself groggily up into a sitting position and rubbing the sleep out of his sightless eyes. I glanced over at him, feeling a brand new surge of relief fill my every muscle with tingling energy. Then, I looked away again as I packed my dirty clothes and tea supplies back into their respective bags (the clothes going into the bag that had held my ice cream from the previous night). After a moment spent mulling over how to respond, I tilted my head and sighed slowly.

"Sam thought it would help to sit down and have a therapy session with me. He's a certified therapist, so he's qualified. I knew it would do much since I still don't trust him—"

"Hebi…" Matt's voice was soft, not so much reprimanding as it was understanding. I nodded.

"—but I gave him the benefit of the doubt anyway and let him try. As you heard, it kinda went from bad to worse. He made a comment about my dependency on you being unhealthy, and I may have replied by saying that he should stick to helping people with PTSD since he can actually empathize with them."

"Hebi!" _There_ was the reprimand. There was a new straightness to Matt's back as he glared slightly in my direction, mouth set in a heavy frown.

"I know, I know," I admitted, setting down the bags and plopping down heavily on the bed next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. "But hell if I admit to his face that I'm sorry and know I crossed a line. I'm still annoyed."

"You know," Matt turned his head towards me and raised a brow. "You _do_ have PTSD, so he technically could have stayed if we were going by your logic."

"Shush, he doesn't have to know that yet. He was just thinking about my dependency and probably depression issues," I pointed out.

"But they know about your nightmares, don't they? He could have just decided not to cross the same line as you."

"Orrrrr…" I tried to think of a reply, but settled for sticking my tongue out at him. "You are supposed to be on my side damn it!"

Matt chuckled. Shaking his head. "No, you screwed up. You better properly apologize to him eventually, by the way. For now, let's go home. These sheets are nice, but not nearly as nice as mine."

"Oh, are they just nine-hundred thread count silk instead of a thousand, Mister Expensive Taste in Fabric?" I teased with a large grin as we both stood up. He only grunted moodily in response, making me snort as I grabbed my two bags and we headed down. Unsurprisingly, we were met in the lobby by Tony, Steve, the Three ~~Muskateers~~ Spies, and Peter. My friend gave me an apologetic smile when we reached them.

"I'm sorry our first sleepover was for such a gloomy reason. But we can always have another one!"

"Nope," Matt interjected before I could reply, full Protective Dad Mode activated now that his temperature was gone and only a sore throat, headache, and residual weakness remained. "No sleeping over at a boy's house. This was not my choice, but at least you were on different floors."

I snorted, unable to help myself. "Oh _please,_ you old buzzkill. First off, we're _friends._ Second off, we aren't college students and Peter isn't _you."_

Tony's eyebrow raised, and a cheery voice raised up just in time.

"Oh, are we talking about Matt's playboy college days? My favorite subject!" At Foggy's way too loud declaration, Tony's eyes seemed to gain a mischievous (if hypocritical) gleam as they settled on my dad.

"Oh, playboy days?"

"Shut it Stark, you have no room to talk," my dad instantly cut him off, pointing in the billionaire's general direction. "As for _you_ , dirty traitor," he directed his second sentence at his old friend as the blonde swung an arm over his shoulder. "You better not have told Hebi any stories."

"Oh, you mean about your superpower to somehow detect the most beautiful girls in the room and woo them despite being _blind?_ Thank you for reminding me!"

Matt immediately groaned, reaching over to cover his friend's mouth only for the blonde to duck away with a wide smile. I lunges forward, grabbing Foggy's hand and tugging him to safety.

"No, no," I knew my lips were rigged into a wicked grin as I kept my uncle figure away from my very annoyed father figure. "I wanna hear this now. Go on, Foggy."

Sufficiently encouraged, he plowed on happily, moving his hands as he spoke enthusiastically.

"Okay, so Matt had this whole suave blind-guy thing going on back then. He'd drop a book, or pretend to be lost, and once he had the girl's attention and they swooped to his supposed rescue, all he'd have to do is give her the classic Murdock Smile and they'd fawn all over him. It was disgusting," despite calling it disgusting, Foggy's voice only got even more enthusiastic and mischievous. He didn't seem put out or disgusted at all. "Oh, and there was _Electra_ , can't forget her. Worst thing to ever happen to Matt, if you ever see her I recommend kicking her ass to the curb before Matt knows she's there. Horrible influence, classic bad girl— but I have never doubted Matt's blindness more than the day they met," Foggy's eyes rolled so far back in his head that I feared they'd stick that way. "Here we are, walking to class when one of the most beautiful girls on campus walks out of a classroom and what does Matt do but immediately make a beeline towards her? Unfortunately for our normally suave protagonist, the tables were turned!" Foggy's voice suddenly turned dramatic, and he placed a hand over his heart.

"Don't you _dare_ , Foggy," Matt's threat was duly ignored as I once again whisked the man out of my dad's reach. Even Peter and the Avengers present looked interested. Tony looked like he was getting blackmail gold, the giant hypocrite.

"Electra turned the normally unshakeable playboy into a teenager again. Matt started stuttering and everything, it was _hilarious—oof."_

Matt finally got around me, latching a hand around Foggy's collar and tugging him away as his cane impatiently tapped the ground in front of him in his free hand.

"Stop corrupting my daughter's view of me, you heathen," he grumbled as he dragged his friend away. "Come on Hebi, I want to get home. And I want an actual breakfast, I'm starving."

I rolled my eyes even as I smirked. "Yeah, be right there," I called back, turning to grin at Peter and everyone else. "Foggy already told me the first half of that, he just wanted to annoy Matt by saying it in front of you guys."

The adults chuckled, and Peter snorted, his eyes lingering on my dad's form until he and Foggy exited the building, probably planning to wait for me at the bottom of the stairs.

"Our dads are pretty similar, aren't they?" He thought out loud, finally looking over at me. I blinked in surprise, looking over at Tony, who was pretending not to be listening to our conversation even though he totally was. I felt a tiny smirk tug at the corner of my lips, even as slight melancholy sunk into my gut.

"More than you know, I think," I responded vaguely before clearing my throat and getting everyone else's attention. "Hey, I know I was a handful. But, uh," I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away. "It means a lot that you guys were there and tried to help me out, so… thanks."

Clint grinned, crossing his arm.

"Yeah, you were a pain in the neck—" the archer grinned when Natasha cuffed him over the head and Bucky punched his arm.

"You didn't even do anything this time, idiot," Bucky pointed out gruffly before turning to me with a small smile. "Don't worry about it, kid."

Steve nodded next, hooking his thumbs in the loops on his jeans. "Yeah, you're one of Pete's closest friends so you're pretty much family. You even help him out with his, eh, _extra curriculars,_ so obviously we'd want to help you if you need us to."

"Okay quit with the sap, guys," Tony, obviously, cut in. "She'll be back on Sunday for training, it's not like this is a goodbye or something," he turned his gaze onto me, and winked. "You're welcome to have a sleepover whenever, I'm the _cool_ dad. Just call me so I can make sure there's at least one Avenger here for chaperone just in case," his teasing smirk left no room for question about what he meant by _just in case._

"D- _Dad,"_ Peter hissed, face instantly blooming into a deep red.

"What? You are both healthy, growing teenagers—"

"Okay, that's enough of that," I took pity on Peter (or at least told myself that that was why I interrupted and not the slight heat I could feel building in my cheeks) and cut Tony off as I backed up. "So yeah, thank you guys and all that shit, I'll ask about the sleepover, see you on Sunday, bye!"

Taking my opening, I turned and speed walked out of the building after Foggy and Matt, pretending not to hear the bellowing laughter behind me at me and Peter's expense.

My hearing was bad, but not _that_ bad. They were loud laughers, especially Tony and Clint.

"So," Matt said with a grin once I reached them. "Who do you think will be stuck as your chaperone? I think Natasha would be best, keep you in check—"

I felt my cheeks heat up even more, and pointedly sped up so that I was walking in front of him and Foggy.

They were both loud laughers, too.

Why did I love all these stupid people who laughed at my expense? Gah.

— ***—*—*—*—***

 **Hey! So, I usually go for a 6k word minimum for my chapters, but this fell at about 5,900 and I reached a good ending so I just decided not to bother with the last hundred words because I knew I was likely to get carried away and end up on a tangent. Next chapter, new arc and new characters that I have been** _**dying** _ **to finally introduce!**

**Also, I know I kinda dropped a bomb about Steve and Bucky dating (although is it that surprising? I probably just confirmed a suspicion at this point), but I'm not gonna emphasize their relationship very much. It isn't a focus of the story, so it will be there and I'm not gonna hide it, but it's very much a background thing. Plus, I did warn you in the tags that characters will fall all over the LGBTQ+ spectrum. However, that spectrum is not the focus of the story so it will be sprinkled in and very much normalized. Nobody's going to really act as if it's a big deal (except maybe asshole characters later on), but it will be there and mentioned now and then.**

**I just don't want it to take over the whole story, if you know what I mean. This is about Hebi and her relationships with Matt and Peter first, and her relationships to Foggy, Karen, and the Avengers secondarily. I just wanted to add in some LGBTQ+ stuff for personal taste, story flavor and setting development. So if you're worried about this going a bit crazy on the LGBTQ+ defense train, don't. Some stories really go all out, and some can get overwhelming or even start to walk the thin line where it gets close to downright insulting normal heterosexuals and cis gender individuals, which is not at all something I intend to do. I just want my world to feel normal. In normal life, you don't constantly point out or obsess over the gender or sexuality of your friends, family, or enemies. It's just not normal or believable. That's why I'm keeping my stuff relatively in the background for the most part— the characters might not have Canon genders or sexualities all the time (spoiler, some** _**do.** _ **I know, shocking), but they are still people and I'm going to try my hardest to still keep them in character.**

**Okay, soap box over. Thank you guys so much for reading, and as always**

**See you next chapter~**

**P.S: feed the comment monster, she starved a little last chapter. ;)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!

Things were fine. Not perfect, never perfect, but decent. Hebi had to deal with her separation anxiety, talking to Matt about what had happened and how she had felt and how they wanted to deal with things the next time a situation like that came up. It… took some work. Namely, convincing Hebi to spend more time away from Matt. Not forever, but just for that first week that Matt was better and he and Hebi were alone at the house. Matt had Hebi spend a lot of time at the office with Foggy while he worked at home, or had her go out to spend time with her friends or over at the Tower to work on her personal project. Which, once Tony found out she _had_ a personal project, turned out to benefit her a lot. In essence, Matt just wanted to make Hebi comfortable with the idea of not being around him all the time when he was relatively okay and recovering from his illness, the residual worry she felt allowing the whole thing to be a sort of "practice" separation to hopefully help things go smoother the next time Matt was sick or injured. They still spent the day after dinner together in their apartment though, so that Hebi wasn't overly stressed.

The big change started at the end of that first week of her being back with Matt, roughly a week before Thanksgiving. Considering school was about to let out for the Thanksgiving holiday, Hebi was going to have some time off and the weather was already too cold for her to fill that time with performances outside. She needed a new pass time.

So, she walked into the Tower swaddled in several long-sleeve shirts, a thick sweater, a beanie, a scarf, and long socks under her jeans and faux-fur lined boots.

It was only forty-seven degrees outside, but she looked like she was dressed for freezing temperatures. It made Peter raise an eyebrow at her when she arrived in the common room, since he would have dressed the same way back when he first got his powers. At least, until his dad gave him self-heating sweaters so he didn't stand out so much.

"You… okay?" He asked his friend, who had pulled the scarf up to cover her mouth. He could see her nose wrinkle, and she pulled down the strip of cloth to reveal her grimace. She took the garment off, laying the fabric on the back of a chair before going to take off her gloves, and then her sweater. She didn't need it in the climate-controlled room.

"Yeah. I just don't handle the cold well," she explained grumpily, hating her thermoregulating issues. Her body still warmed itself, it wasn't _completely_ cold-blooded, but it kept her body seven degrees lower than a normal human's body temperature, making her a _lot_ more sensitive to colder weather.

And she lived in New fucking York. So.

She briefly reminisced back to her foggy childhood memories from when she was five, or her even more foggy and very rare memories from younger than that. She used to love the cold back then, and playing in the snow. Out of all her hospitalizations in the past, none had been for hypothermia strangely enough despite how she used to play for hours in the snow and watch the tips of her fingers slightly turn pale blue from getting too cold. Her mom used to call her a human popsicle. She didn't recall her fingertips ever hurting though, the color change had just been a pretty marvel to her childhood mind that had just made her want to stay out in the cold even longer if anything.

And then, flash forward to present day, and she was more like a human clothes rack in the fall and winter months. She was lucky September and October had been fairly tame.

Peter just watched in mild amusement and concern as the pile of clothes draped over the back of one chair continued to build up higher until Hebi was finally left in her socks, jeans, and a plain pale green t-shirt. Even her beanie had landed on the stack of clothing.

Tony, who had been in the kitchen also watching the spectacle, sipped on a cup of steaming hot coffee as Hebi shook out her newly freed limbs. Once he figured she was comfortable enough, he lowered his mug onto the counter and spoke.

"So, Peter told me you're working on a personal project involving DNA," he said casually. Hebi blinked, looking over at him. Her work with snake DNA had been put on hold during her freak out over Matt, but she had quickly fallen back into it after a day or two of him being better. Just not quite as enthusiastically as before. The teen cracked her neck, working out the kinks for a moment before replying.

"Yeah. Biochem is kinda my thing, you know? I don't know if I'll make any major progress since I'm just working with the school microscopes, or sometimes Hank's if I have time to go over to Pymtech. Why?"

Tony grinned, raising Hebi's suspicions and making her narrow her eyes at him. He straightened his suit jacket—Wait, suit jacket? Hebi's eyes darted to her phone, where the time proudly stated that it was after four PM. Tony only wore suits when he planned to go out or go into a meeting, both of which he usually avoided until he had no other choice, and even if he couldn't weasel himself out of it he tried to schedule meetings so that they were during school hours. And it was Friday, he usually kept his Friday afternoons free to spend time with Peter.

"Well, I figured," Tony started, sounding at his most Philanthropic. Oh no, he was planning on doing some surprise for her. Hebi had gone a few months without allowing the billionaire to shower her with any of his infamously lavish gifts, but it looked like she was about to run out of luck. "That SI has a new biomechanics Department. You know, the one that I developed after making Rhodey's leg braces so that we can distribute similar rehabilitation tech to people all over the world?"

By then, Hebi's eyes had widened. There was only one way a discussion like that could go, after all.

"Stark, you don't mean…"

"Obviously you need to work on the whole 'mechanics' part of 'biomechanics,'" Tony continued with a shrug, walking out from behind the bar and slapping a friendly hand on Hebi's shoulder. "But that's what an internship is supposed to do right? Teach you and develop your skills, yadda yadda. I figure you're good enough on the whole Biology aspect that an internship in the Biomechanics Department wouldn't be far fetched. Buuuut, enough of me droning on. Let's go give you the tour!"

Before the former assassin even knew what was happening, she was being pushed into the elevator with Tony's hands on either one of her shoulders. She was too in shock to process what was happening— internship? Biomechanics? Stark Industries? _Her?_

She just blinked at the screen that showed what floor they were on, watching as it steadily ticked down until they reached floor three. Tony led her out into a hallway lined with glass walls. Hebi's tactical brain robotically analyzed the surroundings— bullet proof glass, probably pretty soundproof too. The tiles were spotless and well maintained, there was a single heavy-duty metal door every now and then down the hallway. The floor was huge, considering the _building_ was huge. There were three large rooms on either side of the hallway they were on, but there was a fork at the end of the hallway that suggested of more rooms along that back wall and maybe even around an unseen bend.

"These are the lowest-level mechanics labs of R&D. College interns and lower level scientists usually work on this floor," Tony explained as he walked easily down the hallway exuding professionalism. Hebi followed in a trance, glancing past one glass wall to see that every room was a lab. They all had several tables inside, each with at least one scientist hard at work on something. Some were just on a holographic screen that she couldn't see the other side of, typing away what was probably code or adjusting what was probably 3-D schematics. "The glass walls allow people to see what's going on inside, but they also are programmed to adjust the view of holograms inside to protect company secrets. Since tours come through here, it allows only actual employees inside that respective lab to see the details of what the scientists are working on."

One of the men at the lab in the middle of the hallway, on the left, looked up. He and five other people were gathered around a giant hologram, with all their desks pushed up against a wall except for the one closest to the hologram, where the pieces of their apparent project were. His eyes shone in recognition, and the man jogged over to the door. It slid open for him, and he peeked his head out.

"Mini Stark! Did Boss Man come to have mercy on us and let you spend the evening helping us out?" His words made Hebi look to her right, noticing Peter standing there for the first time. She blinked.

 _I was so distracted that I didn't notice Peter was here the whole time?_ She thought, the realization shocking her back to her normal awareness. _Sloppy. And not something I'm used to. Focus, Hebi._

Peter raised his hands up in mock surrender. "No, no! This is my friend, Hebi. Hebi, this is Jack. He's one of the interns," the teen vigilante told his friend, motioning for Jack to come over. He was college aged, which was to be expected since SI didn't really _take_ high school interns. Except Peter, obviously. And now Hebi, apparently. "Jack, D— Mister Stark is trying to get Hebi to accept an internship with Biomech, a few levels up. Knowing her she's probably gonna try to make some excuse that she isn't good enough, so help us convince her!"

The man's smile widened as he held out a hand, which Hebi shook firmly. "Well! Another teenage genius, then?" Tony, who had been standing back, snorted.

"They just keep coming out of the woodworks," the billionaire joked with a smirk. Jack chuckled.

"Well then Hebi, you shouldn't just tell _the_ Tony Stark no, you know? The benefits are crazy, and he doesn't believe in unpaid internships so you can get some money to spend on… what, candy? That what kids spend all their money on, right? Candy and soda?"

It was Hebi's turn to laugh, and she shook her head. "Something like that," she agreed in amusement, even though she already had a well-paying small business and hardly ever ate candy or drank soda. Jack didn't need to know that.

"Anyway, go look at all the labs. If you're a true nerd like the rest of us, that'll convince you on it's own. Now, if Parker isn't gonna help us with our coding error, I gotta get back to the rest. Nice meeting you, Hebi," Jack waved before jogging back into his lab, joining back up with his fellow ring of interns. Hebi turned her attention back to Tony, eyes wide and still slightly dazed-looking, but much more coherent than before.

"I wanna see everything."

Peter and Tony grinned at that, Peter in joy and Tony smugly, before the two led her deeper onto that floor.

They saw the highest level mechanics floor next, and then the tech labs that developed security tech and where the legal hackers were stationed. They were tasked with hacking SI's stuff (or rather, _trying to_ ) in order to determine weak points that needed to be addressed in the security.

"Ted is an intern for this level," Tony told her, of course meaning Ned. For some reason the man refused to call the boy by his real name, but Hebi had already determined that it was an inside joke dating back to B.H.—Before Hebi.

The teen blinked, raising her eyebrows. Okay, that was another teenage SI intern to add to the growing list. Was Tony starting a collection?

"He mostly works from home though, since he can't come here all the time," Peter filled in. "He comes once or twice a month to pick up files and tech to test, and either fixes the codes or tries hacking it to find issues. Sometimes he can't hold himself back and hacks it, and _then_ fixes it. Without taking notes. And then he has to come back and demonstrate what he did to the other interns because he can't do things in the right order," Peter said with a fond eye roll. Hebi found herself smiling at the image. Yeah, that sounded like Ned.

The next labs they visited were the Biomechanics labs themselves, on floor twenty. It was the newest department, so they were oddly placed. Most R&D was on lower levels, since they were Tony's favorites and he didn't want them to have to travel too far to reach their labs or ferry equipment. The higher levels were mostly PR and business floors, which Tony liked significantly less and had no problem making those employees walk farther to their offices. But, floors sixteen to nineteen, where Tony _would_ have placed Biomech, were taken up by the media/social media section of PR. Which, according to Tony, Pepper had declared "too tortured as it is" to be forced to move up. After all, they didn't just deal with the usual SI media shitstorm, but also the media shitstorms surrounding the Avengers both as a group and individually.

Anyway, Tony and Peter led Hebi into what she decided was her new favorite place on Earth. The lab structure was much like floor Three, but the rooms were bigger and there were physical therapy machines and set ups in some labs, with other labs having anatomical models set up, with sticky notes pasted all over. Those sticky notes, both physical and holographic, held what Hebi assumed were notes on the effects of certain types of strain or materials on various parts of the body. She could only read the physical sticky notes though, since the holographic ones were censored via the glass walls, but still. There were large boards with tons of different ideas on them in brightly colored font or marker (depending on if the board was dry erase or holographic), and there were biology stations where robotic limbs were testing out certain braces or other machines. The scientists themselves, in some labs, were testing out their prototypes on themselves while their coworkers made notes.

Peter and Tony could both see the stars in Hebi's eyes as she rushed from one window to another to look in on what was going on, and had to hold back chuckles. Biomechanics was only really _half_ Hebi's expertise, since she was still less than mediocre at mechanics. But her hacking skills were pretty good, so Tony justified that she could help out on the security floors as well if she needed a break from trying to bring her mechanic skills up to par.

But Peter had shown him clips of her biology theories from her various rants at school, and pages from the journal she had allowed him to have that detailed her various "scrapped" ideas that she couldn't bring to life on her own. The girl was smart, and was a genius with biology and chemistry. Tony wanted to help her skill in those areas develop, and he also knew that getting comfortable with advanced tech and engineering would only help her in their society. SI was primarily mechanics and technology based, so it didn't make sense for them to have a biochem or chemistry branch yet. They had Bruce at the Tower most times anyway, if they needed an expert in those fields on short notice. Otherwise, Oscorp or Reed Richards over at the Baxter Building dealt with the majority of chemistry and biochem development. Maybe Tony should make a biochem department just to spite those two (Richards always claimed he was smarter than Stark, which was just Not True and that misconception needed to be answered).

"Our tour isn't over yet," Tony said out loud, filing his idea away to address at a later date. His voice made the excited girl turn around, eyes focused on him. He grinned, smug at her enthusiasm. The SI that she was so excited about was all _his,_ after all (and 12% Pepper's), and was a far cry from the weaponized monstrosity his father had led. Tony nodded. "Come on, there's one more stop."

Hebi and Peter filed in the elevator again, the boy of the two friends bouncing on his heels in anticipation. That made Hebi marrow her eyes— Peter must have known what was coming up and was excited for it. What could _that_ mean?

"You see," Peter apparently couldn't hold himself back as the floor numbers ticked upwards. "Some high level scientists get their own personal labs, like Dad and uncle Bruce and some of the department heads. Dad and uncle Bruce's labs are obviously the best though, they get a whole floor to themselves. But, I have my own lab too, and…" the elevator doors opened right as Hebi, who suddenly had a suspicion as to what was going on, started to feel overcome with excitement again. On this floor, there were only two doors. They each led to a huge room, one of which held Spider-man suits and equipment on the walls, with various Avenger equipment scattered around the tables. Hebi and Peter had worked in one of the smaller labs that could be checked out by scientists or interns for private study before, back when they worked on their school project together. But this was a whole other level. Peter's lab was half a floor of sprawling space, littered with various machines and tables and equipment.

Peter's hands on Hebi's shoulders gently steered her to the right side of the hallway, where she could see straight through the bulletproof glass wall into the second lab.

"A whole floor is too much space for me right now. I don't work on cars or giant metal suits in my spare time like Dad, after all. So, we cut this floor in half and wanted to save the second lab for something special in the future, you know? We used it as storage for a while, but we know that you get fed up with people pretty quickly and like your privacy so when Dad brought up the idea of offering you an internship…" Peter trailed off, allowing Tony to pick up.

"And Peter told me that you were working on a mysterious private project that could benefit from Stark Industries tech, we decided what we wanted to actually use this lab for. It has high-powered microscopes for your DNA project, along with top of the line analyzers, the best chemistry equipment I could buy that wasn't an explosion risk— I don't know what you exactly plan on doing, so I just guessed on what you could use. If you want another machine, just tell me. It'll most likely be like pocket change for me anyway, so don't you dare hesitate to ask, I wanna see what you can make. I also have some of the machines you'll be working with a lot down in Biomech, and obviously you have access to Friday so you can ask for projects from the Security floors if you feel like working on your coding or hacking. Biology models are over there," he gestured to the different anatomical models lined up in one corner of the room. There was also exercise equipment she could use for testing out stuff, like down on the biomechanics floor. Even a few different freezers, refrigerators, and a hot storage.

Hebi just gaped. Her own lab. At _Stark_ fucking _Industries._ She stumbled to the heavy metal door, which of course slid open upon her approach. She walked almost mechanically around the room, staring wide eyed at each sturdy metal table, each shelf of chemicals and large piece of machinery. Even the cabinets filled with finer machinery, each piece which probably cost more than an entire year's salary for her and Matt combined, drew her eye.

Father and son watched from the doorway as the lithe teen gazed over everything they had set up for her with reverence. Her steps were silent and slow, as if she was afraid of making any noise to disrupt the atmosphere of her new area. They stayed silent as she tested out the buttons on the walls (which could also be activated by Friday, but they knew that buttons would sometimes be preferable for someone hard of hearing compared to having to speak out loud) that controlled the opacity of the glass walls. She could turn them completely dark, obscuring everything she was working on inside the lab from anyone in Peter's lab or the hallway. She messed with the brightness settings of the lights, even, and the venting systems. She made it to the dehydrator, and chuckled at the note that Tony had put there: "Try not to only use this to make tea."

Everything was so perfect, so wondrously beyond what she had ever _hoped_ of achieving. It was ridiculous. It was amazing.

It was also incredibly overwhelming.

"Hebi?" Peter's voice called out hesitantly, causing his friend to turn to him. His face was pinched in concern. "You're pale as paper. Are you alright?"

Hebi did her best impression of a fish for a moment, her lips opening and closing without making sound . Figuring she couldn't force sound out of her throat, she raised her hands to sign… only for them to hang in the air motionless. She just didn't know what to say. Words, for the first time since infancy, completely evaded her.

"I think she likes it," Tony said softly, hand on Peter's shoulder and mouth quirked in a soft smile. Hebi could only nod dumbly.

"So, internship…" Hebi finally managed to croak once they were back on the common floor and away from the speech-stealing lab she could now call her own. She leaned against the back of one of the couches, trying to appear casual despite still looking awestruck. "When do I start?"

—*—*—*—*—*

"Hebi."

"—I just got a few frozen snakes from various zoos and breeders and vet clinics across the state. They were meant to be recycled as feeder snakes—"

"Hebi."

"—but I got them, and it's perfect. I can examine the exact DNA responsible for various abilities and attributes of a snake. I wanna know about their aversion to alcohol? Examine brain tissue and DNA, or samples of their tongue. Maybe even their Jacobson's organ. And their low oxygen re—"

"Hebi, if I have to hear you talk about snake corpses for one more minute, I'm going to go crazy," Matt's deadpan interrupted me, making me look up from my ramble and the notes I had been rapidly scribbling down. Unable to let a chance at teasing my dad go, I raised an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes. "Craz _ier,_ then," he amended. I sighed, but set my notepad down on the counter before turning on the stool to face him.

My father figure was sitting on the couch, Braille paperwork spread out on the coffee table in front of him. His hair was mussed from him running his fingers through it, but everything else about him was wondrously healthy. His heartbeat was strong and steady, his skin and hair was clean and didn't stink of sickness or sweat, his every move was done with its usual strength and fluidity. He was completely back to full strength. Even though I was on my shed, it was wondrous.

"Okay, then if you don't want to hear about my research, what do you want?" I asked, my tone light and teasing. I was back to normal too, for the most part. My anxiety had fizzled out after the week of "practice separation," even though it still spiked whenever Matt was hurt. That was to be expected though. Nothing about my mental condition was solved of course, but it was back to baseline. Time and effort were the only things I could count on to make it better as a whole, so I'd take it step by step.

Matt smirked lopsidedly, apparently he had been trying to tell me something multiple times during my rant and was a bit fondly annoyed at having to repeat himself multiple times.

"I was _trying_ to tell you that Peter and Tony invited us over for thanksgiving dinner. Tony even pulled the 'orphans should stick together' card."

I tilted my head, frowning in thought. Foggy was spending the holiday with his own big family, and taking Karen with him, so we'd be on our own. Sure, we could have gone with them but… well, some of Foggy's siblings were children. And I still had trauma to work through regarding children.

In essence: me around kids was a panic attack waiting to happen, and not advisable.

"I think we should go," Matt's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, making me raise my head to him again. He shrugged, sensing my confusion. "It's people you mostly trust or at least are comfortable around, right? Besides, I haven't spent enough time around them myself. Being Avengers is all well and good, but I would like to personally know the people my daughter spends time with, you know?"

As usual, I felt a little giddiness rise in me when he called me his daughter. Yeah, that still felt good. I grinned widely. I'd love to see Matt's reaction when he met—

My grin slipped.

Sensing my change in mood, Matt sat up, eyebrows wrinkled. "What? You don't want to go?"

"It's not that," I dismissed, crossing my arms. "I'm on my shed."

"Yeah. And..?"

I rolled my eyes behind my shed, shooting Matt the best exasperated look that I could manage at that moment.

" _And_ , I can't take the stuff that Hank made for me to be able to read on my shed. Friday will immediately recognize unauthorized tech and report it to Tony. Holograms, movies, I won't be able to see them and if I say the wrong thing my whole act will go up in flames!"

Matt sighed, leaning towards me. "Okay, first off. What are the chances of them wanting to watch a movie that you haven't already seen after dinner?"

A pause. The Avengers loved rewatching Disney movies or classics instead of new stuff, since new movies could hold triggers they weren't aware of yet. Considering most, if not all, of the Avengers had some form of trauma or PTSD, that was a pretty good reason to only watch new movies after looking through reviews or only when in relative privacy with only one or two trusted people nearby in the event of a panic attack.

"Low," I admitted softly. Matt nodded.

"And what are the chances that they'll shoot up a hologram for you to read? It's a holiday and you aren't helping with the cooking, Hebi. Besides, they said that some people are coming over that you haven't met yet. You'll probably be busy talking to them."

I rubbed the back of my neck, my worry fading away and the knot of anxiety in my chest loosening. Matt was right.

"Besides, deception and appearing confident when you aren't are skills you learned back in you-know-where, and you've made it clear you've mastered them. A thanksgiving dinner with the Avengers isn't an undercover mission or anything, you'll be _fine."_

I nodded my head, grinning again. Yeah, Matt was right. If I needed to bullshit my way through anything, then I had all the skills necessary to do it well. Besides, Bucky and Nat would have my back. Clint wouldn't though, since he was off spending the holiday with his family.

"Okay. Then yeah, if you're okay with it, let's go spend thanksgiving at the Tower," I finally responded, feeling light again. Matt chuckled.

"Just don't talk their ears off about serpentine cadavers, and we'll be fine."

"But Matt! _The DNA!"_

—*—*—*—*—*

"Hey Hebi! Aww man, light sensitivity? Nice to see you again, Mister Murdock, glad you could make it!" My best friend's usual ramble greeted us as Matt and I stepped out of the elevator into the common room. I was wearing plain sunglasses that time, forest green ones if I remembered correctly. They didn't have any Pymtech on them, so Friday didn't have any reason to start up an alarm.

"What are you wearing?" Bucky asked once he saw me. I could feel his gaze taking over me, making me snort. Luckily I had already had Foggy describe my clothes to me (with Matt and my own senses both acting as lie detectors just in case the jerk decided to play a badly timed prank) so I could answer him smoothly. I lowered my head as if I was looking down at my shirt, and then slowly raised my head back up at him.

"I'm pretty sure it's just a normal green shirt."

"I'm talking about the camo jeans. Honestly, modern fashion…" Bucky grumbled, making Steve snort and pull his boyfriend into a side hug as he continued to stir something in a pan with his other hand.

Sure enough, true to Matt's warning that there would be two new people here, there were two unfamiliar scents in the air. That was the only cause for concern, considering they might be famous enough for me to be able to recognize them on sight… sight that I happened to be lacking, at the moment.

"Oh, yeah!" Peter spoke up, reaching forward to grab my arm after he led Matt to a seat at one of the couches. "I need to introduce you to Uncle Thor and Uncle Loki!"

Welp, there went any concern that had been lingering about not recognizing somebody. Thank you, oblivious Peter, my friend and savior.

When he pulled me over to some chairs set up in the back corner of the room for extra seating, around a small table with what smelt like books and coffee, it wasn't hard to distinguish the two new people from one another. Thor smelt like rain, clean and crisp, yet also of ozone and sweat. Plus his body temperature was far higher than his brother, and his heat signature took up a lot more space.

Loki, in comparison, was much more subtle. He smelt of old books, and ink and the indescribable odor of Magic. Yet, there was also the odd scent of fresh snow and smoke, the opposing odors balancing each other out. Somewhere my mind registered that he was the god of fire, despite being a frost giant by birth. Quite contradictory, but oddly fitting.

Luckily, I didn't have to be able to actively _see_ them to be in proper awe of meeting them for the first time. I felt both of their gazes heavy on me.

"Hello, friend of Peter!" Thor greeted jovially. "Young Starkson has told us much about you!"

I was silent for a moment, before turning my head to Peter.

"All good things, I hope," I said, and Peter flinched. I furrowed my brows, "You only said _good things_ , right, _Peter?"_

"Uhhh," Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Indeed," the smooth voice that could only belong to Loki answered easily. "Why would Peter say anything bad to us about you?"

"Okay, that proves it. What embarrassing story did you tell them, Pete?" I asked, shooting my hand out to grab him by the back fo the shirt when my friend tried to dash away from me. He didn't waste a beat, slipping out of his sweater and running bare-chested away from me to duck into the safety of his room. I sighed, shaking my head and unceremoniously dropping his shirt even as Thor burst into laughter at the spectacle we had just put on.

"Anyway," I spoke up, smiling as though I wasn't suddenly mortified at the idea of two Norse _gods_ knowing something embarrassing about me. "As you obviously know, I'm Hebi. That's my dad, on the couch," I nodded to where Matt sat talking to Tony and Wanda, who was curious about her fellow redhead.

"You do not look alike," Thor admitted. "I suppose you get your dark hair from your mother, then?"

"Thor!" Steve reprimanded from his spot at the stove. I was stiff at the mention of my mom, but I knew Thor hadn't meant anything by it.

"It's fine, Capsicle, I'm not made of _glass,"_ I said with a wave of my hand, dismissing Steve's verbal warning to the God of Thunder. "I'm adopted. But no, my mother was blonde."

"Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" Loki quickly changed the subject, obviously aware of his brother's lack of tact. I smiled at him in thanks, and recited the well-practiced lie.

"I have an eye condition. I usually like to stay at home until the symptoms go away, my dad is blind so we usually keep the lights in the house off unless I need them for something, so I don't have to worry about the light hurting my eyes there. But we both agreed it was best for us to spend the holiday somewhere else, so," I gestured to my glasses with one hand and shrugged. "I have to wear them."

Loki's gaze was heavy on me for a long moment, and I feared he had sensed my lie. After all, if anyone would be able to it would be him. Hopefully enough truth had been laced in my words to throw him off, though.

Loki let it go for a moment, and I registered him nodding. "I see. Well, since the little spider is insistent that we talk to you today…" the God said reluctantly, gesturing to a nearby chair. "Might as well sit down while I ignore you."

I couldn't help it, I laughed. Ignoring the trickster's slight stiffening in shock, I turned and pulled the furniture item over before sinking into it.

"Loki, be nice," Thor was scolding his brother, but I just shook my head and held up a hand.

"It's fine. I'd be in a pretty bad place right now if I took everything everyone said to me to heart," I assured the larger God. "Besides, if anything, I'm going to take that as a challenge."

I sensed Loki's head tilt a bit as his brother voiced: "Challenge?" I nodded, feeling my lips pull up a bit into a smile.

"Of course. You assume you're going to ignore me," I said the second part to Loki, placing my arm on the table and leaning forward onto it. "Then I'm going to take it as a challenge to make you pay attention to me. You obviously think I'm just like the other human teenagers you're used to, right? Excluding Peter, we all know he's special in his own right," I shrugged. "But I bet you I'm different than most people you've met before. Wanna take that bet, God of Mischief?"

The silence was heavy between the three of us, my lighthearted bet hanging between me and Loki as Thor watched over in mild apprehension.

"Alright, mortal. I'll give you a chance," Loki answered slowly, and I could once again feel his gaze analyzing my face and body language. "Peter can lift Thor's hammer. I assume you know the requirements to do so?"

I raised an eyebrow, not about to let Loki lead this whole challenge but intrigued enough to hear him out for the moment. "I only know that someone has to be 'worthy,' but I don't know exactly what that entails."

"There are a few specific requirements," Thor took over the explanation. "The wielder has to be honorable, selfless, humble, have the willingness to kill for the greater good, and live the life of a warrior," the man's strong voice recited solemnly. I nodded calmly, although my mind was whirring. I seriously doubted that I was selfless or honorable enough to lift it— a certain rhyme I had taught myself during my years with Dryad came to mind— but it was not a risk I could take. Though maybe it was worth the... wait.

"You said Peter could lift it, though," I reminded them, frowning. "There is no way he would ever have the willingness to take a life."

Thor's face split into a massive grin that was easy for my heat sensors to pick up.

"Indeed! He can _lift_ Mjolnir, but he cannot _wield_ Mjolnir. The only requirement he lacks is the willingness to kill, so the hammer seems him worthy of _holding_ it only."

Ah.

No longer worth trying, if the lack of only one requirement could still affect being able to lift Mjolnir. If I somehow did lift it…

Thor stood up, grabbed something, and came back to plop it on the center of the table.

"Let's see if you can keep my attention then," Loki said, lounging back in his seat. "Try to lift Mjolnir."

I crossed my arms, knowing there was only one way to play this game with him.

"No," I refused, instantly detecting the way Loki froze. Good, my answer shocked him. "I'm not stupid enough to think I have a chance of lifting it, especially if not even Peter can completely wield it. I am well aware of my flaws, thank you very much," I crossed my legs, leaning back in my own chair even as I lifted my chin in Loki's direction slightly. "And I can tell I still have your attention. Now my turn. Are you genderfluid, or trans-gender? Or do you actually identify as a male one hundred percent of the time and mythology is misleading?"

Loki was silent for a moment, which was very telling and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel very proud of myself, but soon enough he had his words sorted out and started to talk again. I registered him briefly licking his lips before speaking.

"Gender is… different on Asgard. Not as rigid as you all on Midgard seem to hold it as. But if you must know, I am what you humans refer to as gender-fluid. If I feel like a woman one day, I will become one, and vice versa. One of the advantages of being a shapeshifter, I suppose."

I grinned, happy to have my hypothesis proven.

"What about you, young one?" Thor turned my own question on myself. I paused, actually a little surprised that my answer wasn't immediate. I frowned, tilting my head to actually consider my answer. I was always referred to as female, and I hadn't really had time to consider gender in depth or anything during my crappy childhood or time on the streets. After that, it just didn't really matter. I was Hebi, and Hebi was a human being with occasionally annoying powers. Thinking of myself in terms of gender wasn't really something I did often.

"I… suppose I'm gender fluid, myself," I answered slowly, the answer feeling right as it came from my lips. "I never really considered it before, I guess. Too much to focus on before, I never really sat down to think about it. But now that I am… yeah, some days I feel like a woman and others I'm a man. Gender fluid, then," I nodded to myself decisively, proud of my new self-discovery. Sometimes all it took was a casual discussion to figure something new out about oneself. "But I'm not gonna ask anybody to stop using she/her pronouns with me. I don't really mind what anyone calls me, I'm not a different person now than I was before after all."

"Are you sure?" Peter's voice came up from behind me suddenly, making me turn my head slightly to hear him better. "I can totally switch to they/them, now if you want. I do that for Loki, I even call them Aunt or Uncle depending on the day."

I smiled at my friend, shaking my head. "Nah. I don't think I even notice what kind of day it is most of the time anyway, so you'd have to keep track of it better than me. Anyway, why don't you take Thor and try to steal some food together? Loki and I are busy with a challenge."

Peter gave me a strange look that my heat vision couldn't completely decided, but ultimately shrugged and tugged his Uncle Thor away to go upset he other adults together.

—*—*—*—*—*

Loki decided he liked this new girl. He would never admit it out loud, of course, and he was still cautious and curious about the mortal. But there was something very different about her compared to most humans, even the extraordinary ones gathered in that room.

The demigod's green eyes shone, unaware that green flecks in the hazel eyes across from him would probably have been doing the exact same thing had they been bared. Two mischievous souls, both well versed in the tricks of language and deception, having a grand old time trying to win their silly little challenge. Of course, Loki was no fool. He knew that he was already the loser by virtue of even continuing to entertain the challenge at all, but again he would never admit that out loud.

But, birds of a feather flock together. And there was something about the girl, or perhaps he should just refer to her as "the teenager" or "the mortal" after the recent discovery of her gender. But… no, her legs were crossed and the bangs of her pixie cut dripped femininely over one side of her face, ever so slightly curled at the end. Yes, whether she realized it or not it was a female day for her.

Regardless, there was a… shine. A magical shine to her. Everyone else in the room had one, a magical aura that told of their power and their potential. But Hebi's was different. Not stronger, not by any means. In fact, his brother's aura had nearly drowned out the young girl's own. It was soft, trying to hide behind mental barriers that were hauntingly like the ones hiding the assassin woman, Natasha's, aura. But it was there, the little spark that told of greatness, hiding behind trauma that Loki did not yet know of.

And a magical chill in the air that Hebi was doubtlessly unaware she made. In fact, Loki doubted anyone but he could sense the faint magical chill coming from the young teen.

Yes. Interesting, indeed.

— ***—*—*—*—***

**Yo!**

**The genderfluid thing was not planned actually, but it kinda just… happened. Like, Hebi took the reigns and was like: "let me tell themmmmm!"**

**Yeah. Again, this new discovery won't be at the forefront of the story, more like a background knowledge that doesn't completely disappear. Like she said, Hebi is still Hebi. And yeah, this is partially based on my own experiences. I'm not gonna go into depth or anything, but yeah.**

**So. Thor and Loki show up finally! And I took so long to post for multiple reasons. 1: A lot of hard shit at home that I had to deal with, followed by my emotional murder VIA badly timed viewing of End Game. 2: I got a new job! So, I had to focus on getting everything in order for that! :D 3: planning. Oh my gosh guys, I have this story P L A N N E D. Like, up to so far in the future. I have so much planning for the arcs coming up and what happens in them, and I am SO EXCITED!**

**So, have my first chapter post-endgame heartbreak. I hope it sounded okay! I'm kinda desensitized to this chapter by now, so everything sounds mediocre, which usually is my way of telling when it is finally okay enough to post. Bleh.**

**Please comment! I love hearing from you guys!**

**Thank you SO SO SO much for reading and,**

**See you next chapter~!**


	23. Chapter 23

It was a different experience for me. Thanksgiving, that is. My mother and I had had no other family, so my memories from Before Dryad had a few barely-existent, heavily eroded memories of sitting down at our tiny dining table with a bowl of mashed potatoes, corn, and a chicken that we pretended was turkey for Thanksgiving. After her death the holiday (and most others) were forgotten or set aside in favor of survival. Although, there was that one time when I was thirteen that I sat down and ate canned corn and spam with some other friendly hobos on thanksgiving, but did that really count?

But _this._ I was sitting down, in the Common Room of Avenger's Tower, with my dad on one side of me, Peter on the other, and Thor and Loki directly across from me. And at one of the largest tables I had ever seen (or, more accurately, _felt_ , since I was on my shed) in my life, too— a long, rectangular slab of expensive, polished, and delicately engraved wood that might as well have been a giant stack of cash used as a table. And the _food._ Even knowing that I didn't have anywhere near the stomach space to eat as much as I wanted to didn't deter me from salivating at the array before me. Two huge cooked turkeys, plenty of stuffing, heaps of fresh mashed potatoes, buttered corn, _cream corn_ even! Probably from Clint, him and his country-farm self probably insisted that we have cream corn even if he wasn't there to eat it (I wasn't complaining). Green beans, green bean casserole, different steamed and grilled veggies, cranberry sauce (I could pass on that), a huge pitcher of what smelled like the best gravy I would have my in life. There was ham and chicken too, since a huge family of superheroes needed a bunch of food, and variety was much appreciated. There were even bean dishes and fruit so that the vegetarians at the table weren't left out. Were those _cheesy scalloped potatoes?!_

Oh my holy fuck. Steve came out of the kitchen just then carrying a tray of baked potatoes, too, of which I lunged forward to grab one right in time with the others. The slow did not get what they wanted of the limited-item foods, after all.

Once everyone had loaded their plates, but hadn't dared to take a single bite (Pepper had to keep slapping Tony's wrist), Pepper cleared her throat and smiled.

"You seem right at home among the food hoarders, Hebi," she teased lightly, making me snort in agreement. "Just for everyone who doesn't know, most of us have different views on religion and whatnot, so we don't say grace so that nobody feels left out or awkward. Instead, we usually go around the table asking everyone to say one or two things they're grateful for before we eat. Is that okay with you, Mister Murdock?"

I could sense my dad's lips lifting into what was probably his classic Charming Smile, nodding easily. He probably would have preferred to say grace, religious as he was, but he knew I wasn't very comfortable with things like that so he most likely would have avoided it anyway for my sake.

That loveable, considerate goof.

"That's absolutely fine, Miss Potts," he confirmed out loud, making the woman nod happily.

"Alright, then! Tony, you start," Pepper spoke as she grabbed Tony by the wrist to stop him from eating before everyone else. Again. The billionaire tried to play it off like his fiancé's nails weren't painfully digging into his skin (not enough to draw blood of course, Pepper wasn't _mean)_ and cleared his throat.

"Ah. Emotions. Well, I'm thankful for there not being a sudden outbreak of powered criminals—not more than usual anyway— because otherwise I would have to worry about Hebi getting killed and I already worry about one accident prone kid more than enough," I could sense him shift to level a playful glare at my friend beside me, who just shrugged unrepentantly. Judging from Pepper's sigh, I figured she had hoped for something a little better but was still pleasantly surprised she got something as good as she did. She went next.

"I'm grateful for a loving soon-to-be husband and son, and of having such a supportive group of people here at the tower to call family," she said her much more emotional answer, making me smile softly. As the newest guests, we were next. My dad straightened in his chair as I tapped his shoulder to "indicate" that it was his turn even though he doubtlessly was already aware of that.

"I'm grateful for finding Hebi at the beginning of this year. Having a child really changes you, and I think she's exactly the kind of annoying I needed in my life without really knowing it," he told everyone, slightly bumping my shoulder with a grin when he said "annoying." Everyone chuckled a little, and I rolled my eyes behind my shed.

"Uh well," I tilted my head. I wanted to say I was grateful for Matt, but that would kind of be redundant. Matt knew I was grateful for him, I wanted to say something else. Something different. "I've never had more than one person to celebrate a holiday with before, unless you count a few other homeless people that I didn't know when I was living on the street. And honestly, I don't think I've ever seen so much food that I was actually able to eat in my _life,"_ I admitted, chuckling slightly breathlessly for a moment and shaking my head. Saying it out loud just made the situation even more real, it was a little unbelievable how much a little less than one year changed for my life. "So, I'm definitely grateful for the _food,"_ chuckles rang up around the table. "But also you guys. Sitting here, around so many people… it reminds me just how much has changed in my life—in a good way, of course, the _best_ of ways. So, yeah. Thanks. And don't expect any more sappiness from me at least until Christmas."

My last remark made everyone laugh despite themselves, and the line of thanks continued on. Peter mentioned being thankful for having another science nerd to talk to, and so on and so forth. Loki said he was thankful to not be dead, in a very deadpan voice no less, and everyone ignored him. Sam was grateful for Redwing (the groans around the table suggested he used that line before) and Wanda and Vision were a sappy couple that were thankful for each other, of _course._

Once we actually got to dig into the slightly cooled food, it was like heaven on my tastebuds. Cheerful chatter broke up around the table and everyone relaxed even more and just enjoyed the meal. I had a forkful of turkey, potato, and green beans in my mouth when Loki spoke up from across from me.

"What did you mean by, on the streets, earlier?" His smooth voice asked casually as he took a small bite of what smelled like ham. I raised an eyebrow, swallowing my mouthful before wiping my lips with a napkin to answer.

"Oh, that. I was homeless for three years," I admitted with a shrug. "The whole story is too gloomy to go over during a holiday, but if you're here at the Tower when I am some other day, I wouldn't mind telling you more," I said, scooping out some of my baked potato with my fork. "Speaking of being here, how's everything going with your people and moving to that new planet Strange mentioned?"

Thor heard my question, turning his head to me with a slosh of his mug of Asgardian mead. Apparently they had found a way to make it on Earth, but they held the recipe close to heart. It was too strong for most humans after all, and even one cup could spell alcohol poisoning if someone wasn't careful or didn't have an enhanced metabolism. Loki, similarly, was sipping at a cup of Asgardian wine. Unlike the crude smell of the mead, the wine actually… didn't smell bad? I hated alcohol, and usually the scent alone was enough to make me retch, but the wine in Loki's cup was actually giving off a halfway pleasant smell. It was mind-boggling to me.

Loki had to move his plate away with a very noticeable grimace to avoid it getting tainted by the alcohol that sloshed from Thor's cup.

"I am glad you asked, young one!" The god of Thunder boomed joyfully. "My brother, Valkyrie, and I have already scouted the land that the Sorcerer found. It is most suitable for a New Asgard, indeed! We are going to begin transferring everyone over next week."

"She was speaking to _me,_ brother," Loki groused in mild annoyance. He turned his attention back to me. "It is as the oaf said, the planet is going to require some work but it should hold a new Asgard for us just fine. There are native plants and animals, but intelligent life hasn't formed there yet so we don't have to fight for land. I shall be glad to have a better realm to escape to once again rather than having to stay on Midgard," the god admitted, taking another bite of his food. I nodded, happy that they would once again have a place to call their own. Humans had Earth, that was our planet and we felt comfortable there. But Asgardians had lost their home, and it was plain that Earth was too small and too different for them to ever be able to completely be at home there. Having their own planet again would do them good, no matter how hard they had to work to remake their cities.

"You'll still come and visit though, right Uncle Loki?" Peter asked, sounding genuinely curious. "I'd miss you if you were gone too long!"

The trickster chuckled fondly. "Of course, Peter. Most of the people are still… _unsure_ what to think of me, I doubt they will ask for my help with the construction very much. I will have to be there fairly often to help Thor keep order and whatnot, but I will most likely be incredibly bored fairly often. Once we get the Bifrost in proper order, I will likely be back and forth to visit."

I smirked around a mouthful of food. Wow, Peter even got the God of Mischief so fond of him that he'd travel across the galaxy to visit. That was amazing. And not at all surprising— Peter was pretty damn magnetic.

The question of what exactly happened to destroy Asgard, though, was still unanswered for me. Most people knew that it was gone, which is why Asgardians had temporarily moved into uninhabited land in Norway, but not many knew what had actually happened. I filed that question away to ask at a better date.

After the meal was over and I was stuffed (and glaring sightlessly at the last few bites of food that I just didn't have room to stomach down. I was already uncomfortably full, but I still hated the waste), I started to get a bit tired. My energy was usually lower on my shed than it was normally, probably from the stress it brought, and the warm food and tryptophan had only lowered my energy levels even more in the most wonderful way. Yawning widely as everyone else continued to eat or talk, I scooted my chair back to get everyone's attention. Once I had it, I smiled shyly.

"I'm a bit tired, do you mind if I take a nap on the couch?"

Tony nodded, waving a hand at me. "Of course, go ahead. You'll miss the movie and general shenanigans though."

I snorted, standing up from my chair. "I'm here often enough that I can assure you I will _not_ miss the shenanigans. Don't forget to wake me up before you go home, Matt," I said teasingly, making my dad sit up straight and glare in my direction indignantly.

"That was one time!"

"And I won't let you forget it. I had to borrow Karen's clothes for school that day," I shook my head in mock disappointment, allowing him to slap my arm lightly before I took my plate to the kitchen and curled up on the couch. It was risky, sure, but I figured I would be fine. Carefully closing my eyes over my shed, I removed my sunglasses and placed them on the coffee table before drifting off.

—*—*—*—*—*

The lumbering blonde god, slightly inebriated from Asgardian alcohol but far from being completely drunk, lifted his hammer up over his shoulder proudly. It was pretty much a holiday tradition, at that point, to have everyone try to lift it. Once again, only Peter had succeeded besides himself, and without so much as a spark of lightning. Natasha had opted out again, to nobody's surprise. Something about the hammer or the prospect of lifting it unnerved her, so nobody pushed.

Not completely as lucid as he usually would have been, he conveniently forgot about a certain sleeping teenager as he decided he needed to sit down before the movie started and wanted to get the best seat. Flinging Mjolnir carelessly onto the couch next to him, he flopped down.

Only to immediately spring right back up when he landed on legs. Suddenly a little more sober, he looked over to see Mjolnir perched right in the middle of the sleeping Hebi's chest.

Or, well, the _previously_ sleeping Hebi's chest. His unceremonious connection with her legs had forced her awake, and she was stiff as a board. The giant hammer was the only thing that had kept her from surging up to strangle whoever had the misfortune of shocking her awake. Thankfully though, the weight of the weapon _was_ there, and she was able to slowly sit up and let it fall away from her rather than attacking on instinct. Her eyes were still shut tight, the scratch of her shed against the inside of her eyelids giving her just the warning she needed not to open them.

But not everything was in her favor. Had Thor not awoken her right then, something else would have.

Her chest was tight as if being constricted by another snake-enhanced human, heart thumping erratically and breath strained. Colors and images still played in her mind from her dream, not fading quickly enough for her tastes. A nip was in the air from a nearby vent, most likely unnoticeable for most of them but detrimental to Hebi. It teamed up with her state of distress to send her trembling worse than a stressed chihuahua in winter. Thor noticed immediately, slowly reaching out one hand to grab her attention.

"Young Hebi? Take a deep breath," the large man was calm, Hebi might have been surprised at the ease and professionalism he was using to deal with her, had she been able to even register that he was talking. As it was, the mostly unfamiliar voice was jarring, and the sight of his hand coming closer made the teen flinch so violently that it sent her scrambling back into the corner of the sofa she was on. Her breathing came harsher and faster than before, hyperventilation making her skin pale and clammy.

It didn't take long at all for the others to take notice of the familiar signs. Matt, having not drank anything since he had to walk Hebi home, was the first besides Thor to be clued into what was happening. He was in the middle of an animated discussion with some of the more responsible people in the room, namely Pepper, Rhodey, Natasha, and Sam. The engaging conversation didn't do much to dull the sound of her sudden hyperventilation, or the increase in her heart rate that he hadn't noticed before. Luckily he was just at the kitchen counter, so it was a straight shot to the couch where Hebi was.

"Shit," Matt cursed halfway through something Rhodey was saying, making the colonel blink in confusion before Matt was off, jogging towards his daughter in distress.

"He heard that?" Sam asked rhetorically, eyebrows raised when he realized what the lawyer had responded to. Yes, Hebi's breathing was suddenly very loud, but Sam hadn't noticed until it was pointed out by the redhead's departure. "Man, when they say your other senses become stronger when you lose one, they aren't joking around," the therapist idly mused even as he and the others in the group with him started to walk a little closer to assess the situation. Thor's body was big enough to block their view of most of the girl. They didn't want to crowd her though, so only Natasha out of the remaining four of them walked any closer.

Matt kneeled by her bedside, well versed in how best to deal with her in that state. In the opposite direction, the two other groups of people that had formed turned to settle their observant eyes on the two in case the blind man needed help. After all, Hebi was a trained fighter that most of them knew could hold her own against some tough odds. They didn't think the lawyer would stand much of a chance if the teen didn't recognize him through her frightened haze.

"Hebi," Matt's voice called out sternly, strong and confident. "You're in Avenger's Tower. You're on the couch. It's Thanksgiving, you got tired after dinner and took a nap," Matt held on arm up in front of him without moving it towards her. "Everyone is okay. Nobody is attacking. Nobody is hurt. Feel my pulse, Hebs. My arm's right here— there you go," he nodded approvingly when Hebi's trembling fingers reached out to gently lay themselves on his wrist.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The beat was steady under her sensitive fingertips, and Hebi's already slowing breathing shuddered as she managed to take in a deep breath.

"There you go. Everybody's alive, I'm alive, you're not hurt, we're okay. Everyone is okay, Hebi."

The girl's panic attack had already started to decline the moment she heard his anchoring voice. It was familiar enough by then, along with his scent, to offer her the feeling of safety she needed to start coming down from her pent up state. The first deep breath was followed by another, slightly steadier one, and then another, until the muscles in her shoulders finally relaxed and her head slumped to gently hit against the soft back of the sofa.

"Gl'ssis?" She slurred, not completely recovered enough to enunciate properly especially when she was speaking too softly to hear herself. Matt nodded, turning his head slightly in the direction of the still present demigod.

"Where are her glasses?" The lawyer asked politely, making the larger man straighten and make a sound of realization.

"Right behind you on the table, Murdock," Thor informed the redhead, the seriousness of the situation forcing Thor to not be as whimsical in his naming as usual. "Are you alright now, Young Hebi?" The god softened his tone significantly when he addressed the teen, who offered him a lopsided smile in response.

"Considering that I just had a nightmare and panic attack in front of some of the strongest people on the planet? I could be better," she admitted, her voice slightly raspy. "But all things considered, I could also be worse," she amended with a shrug, accepting her sunglasses from Matt after he pretended to search for them for a moment and tapped her shoulder with them. Sliding them on, the last bit of discomfort sunk out of her as she was able to open her eyes. She was still blind, but having her eyes closed over dry shed was always unpleasant. "After all, I could be having a panic attack while my doctor takes a bullet out of my shoulder and my dad is trying to soothe me while giving me a disapproving blind glare at the same time."

Nobody was comfortable with how specific that example was, and Loki felt one of my eyebrows tick up in curiosity. So Hebi was not only interesting when to came to conversation, but her past seemed quite unusual for a child as well. Not even Peter tried to shrug off a panic attack quite that quickly, but Hebi was almost immediately making a quip to deflect.

Matt reached one hand out to gently flick Hebi on the cheek. She didn't flinch at the touch, which showed the attack was completely subsided. Her guardian was frowning at her deeply. "That was not funny," he remarked in a gentle scold. "That was terrifying."

"So, what movie did you guys watch?" Hebi completely ignored her dad, rubbing a hand over her head. Tony raised an eyebrow, eyes darting over to where the television was still off. Hebi must have been out of it not to notice, but he supposed that panic attacks did that to people.

"It's only been an hour, we haven't started the movie yet. We were thinking Lion King or Zootopia. Apparently people want to see fuzzy animals after eating a feast," the billionaire filled the teen in with a shrug. Hebi's mouth twitched up in one corner slightly. She had seen Zootopia exactly once, by a recommendation from Peter of course, and she did not mind listening to it again even if she knew she would sorely miss being able to see the amazing animation.

"That sounds good, and I'm not exactly that tired anymore," Hebi said slowly, her voice still fairly quiet and not completely even since she still wasn't able to hear herself very well. She knew she could totally force herself to sleep after a flashback nightmare anyway, she had lots of practice with that, but she didn't want to. She wasn't in a bad place like that at a moment either, so she didn't feel the need to.

"Wait," Matt suddenly spoke up, making the attention turn to him. He looked oddly excited, and Hebi could make out the straightness of his back with her heat vision easily. "Is it seven thirty?"

"Uh," Steve voiced, looking down at his watch. "Yeah, seven thirty-five. Why?"

Matt's mouth widened into a huge smile. "Well, even though this isn't exactly the ideal mood for the occasion…" Matt reached into a pocket and pulled something tiny out. Raising it to his lips, he blew lightly and the not-as-loud-as-usual (since he wasn't trying to send Hebi into another attack so soon) obnoxious, squeaky cry of a party horn broke the lingering melancholy in the room. He was still smiling when he lowered the item. "Your presents are hidden at Foggy's place since I didn't want you to spoil the surprise, so I'll give them to you tomorrow, but happy sixteenth birthday, Hebi."

The teen just stared in his direction for a moment, slackjawed. Then a disbelieving huff of laughter pulled itself from her. "Oh my god. Did you seriously check my records for the exact time I was born, Matt? You're such a dork."

"Whaa— Hebi! Why didn't you tell me?!" Peter asked frantically, aghast that he was completely unprepared and didn't even have a gift or a card ready. Similarly, all the other avengers (besides the obvious two) were also surprised. Natasha smirked triumphantly, tossing a small package onto the couch that Hebi caught almost completely by reflex instead of actually registering what it was until she felt the soft wrapping paper under her fingers.

"I planned on staying home and not telling anyone about my birthday, to be honest," Hebi answered even as she cuddled with the wrapped gift from Natasha with obvious confusion. The assassin wasn't really someone anyone expected to be the gift-giving sort, after all. "Kinda like how I didn't tell anyone that my mom's death anniversary was on Friday."

Matt gave her a cuff over the back of the head for dropping _that_ bombshell of melancholy on everyone. She just shrugged as if it didn't matter (and that fooled nobody except Thor, who didn't know her well enough yet), and started peeling the paper from Natasha's mysterious gift.

"I got you something too," Bucky spoke up, coming forward to hand the black haired teen a wider but flatter wrapped object than the tiny cube the red headed assassin had handed over.

Hebi finished unwrapping Natasha's gift, exposing a tiny box. Lifting the lid off, Hebi's eyebrows rose. Carefully lifting the small gunmetal ring out of the box, Hebi turned it over in her hand and felt a button.

"I hope you aren't proposing," the teen remarked, one of the few who didn't hesitate to provoke the Black Widow. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"I can always take it back. Be careful with that button."

Hebi nodded, holding the ring so she was only touching the bare minimum of it necessary before pressing the small hidden rectangle. A thin but razor sharp blade popped out of the top with a beautiful _shiiing_ that was barely audible. Hebi couldn't help but smile widely, tilting her head as she examined the cold object with her heat vision. She wished she could see what it looked like— was it gold, or blue, or silver? The others in the room who could register light took in the gunmetal gray of the ring and blade with apprehension. Trust Natasha to give a concealable weapon as a birthday gift. The blade was only slightly more than half an inch long, but that could still cause a lot of damage in the right hands.

For Hebi, though, it was too small for her to feel bad having it. A normal sized knife felt too dangerous in her admittedly skilled hands for her to feel comfortable carrying one all the time, but the ring was perfect for self defense without scaring the teen into thinking that she would accidentally kill someone with it. Pressing the button a second time retracted the blade, and Hebi wasted no time slipping the ring onto her index finger. It was a perfect fit.

"Thank you, Natasha," Hebi thanked the woman, smiling at her almost as widely as she had grinned at the weaponized jewelry. "It's perfect for those nights that idiots think they can gang up on me on my way home."

"Seriously, stop walking home alone late at night," Bruce groused, making an almost constipated looking face that showed exactly how uncomfortable he was with Hebi's seemingly reckless habit. "Murdock, why do you let her do that anyway?"

"Do you think I can stop her?" The lawyer shot back easily, somehow sounding both relaxed and exasperated. "She hates being crowded, and as much as it worries me she is better off walking at night most of the time. She can protect herself better than most, and walking around during the day without someone she knows nearby can give her sensory overloads or even panic attacks on a bad day. What did she give you, Hebi?" Matt asked his last question just for looks, secretly pretty pleased at the assassin's gift. He really did worry when Hebi walked home at night out of costume, the ring brought him a little peace of mind.

Hebi quickly rattled out a description for Matt, nobody except Loki, Natasha, and Bucky noticing the way Hebi carefully left out color. The god narrowed his eyes, his gaze dropping to the handsome metal band. Why would the child not mention such a clearly expensive detail? And the way she phrased her thanks made it sound as if she got attacked often. He had heard that the child was well trained and helped Peter with his web slinging during emergencies, but it sounded as if fighting as a routine part of her life. It was intriguing because humans were not typically the kind who lived a warrior's life until adulthood, and even then only by choice.

The secret vigilante reached out and picked up Bucky's gift next, after receiving a shrug and "no problem" from the redhead spy. Hebi tilted the thin package in a few directions first as if trying to figure out what it was before carefully tearing off the wrapping paper. Inside was a box, again, which Hebi took the top of. Her breath hitches. Apparently the male had had a similar thought, because his box held other items of jewelry that were definitely not normal. There were two necklaces, one for hem a simple masculine chain and the other a more delicate-looking chain and pendant that was noticeably more feminine. There were also two pairs of earrings, both just studs since Hebi's fighter instincts cringed at the idea of wearing anything _dangling_ from her ears. One pair of earrings were just tiny metal circles that wouldn't look out of place on a man, while the others were tiny metal snakes curved into the shape of a heart, which Hebi took out and laughed cheerily at. Even without being able to register light, she wouldn't have missed the shape. It was hard to make out with her heat vision, but the metal was cold enough that it created just enough contrast with the surrounding heat to make it possible. Her fingertips found two tiny gemstone eyes in the snake's head. She raised an eyebrow at Bucky, an amused smirk on her lips.

"I tell you that snakes are my favorite animal _one time,"_ she teased, even though the real message was clear to the long haired man. _Your message is not subtle at all, jerk._ Matt had to bite the inside of his cheek to hide a smile of his own, and Hebi went through the motions of explaining the new gifts to her dad like she had with the ring.

 _Again, she neglects to mention color_ , Loki thought as he eyed the tiny, dark metallic green snakes. _Would her father not appreciate that? Somehow I feel like the opposite is true. Then what is this child doing?_

Of course, Loki did not miss the fact that snakes were Hebi's favorite animal. He was filing that information away with no small amount of amusement.

"The earrings have trackers in them. They are inactive and only you can activate them, we can't turn them on from our end," Bucky informed the girl. "Well, Stark could probably find a way but they aren't _intended_ to be able to be activated from our end. Either press both earrings at the same time once, or one of them twice in quick succession and it will send a distress signal to the Tower and every Avenger, and start tracking your location for us. The necklaces are both made of vibranium, Princess Shuri made them as a favor for me," a small thankful grin found its way onto the large man's mouth. "You're resourceful enough to know how to use them if you're in danger. They can come off in an emergency if you press the clasp twice or on verbal command, and are big enough to easily slide over your head if someone tries to choke you with them. I sent Shuri a clip of you talking, so it's already programmed to your voice."

Hebi nodded at the influx of information, putting the snake earrings in already before reaching in to examine the more feminine necklace with her fingers. They were so inconspicuous, and the ways that someone who wasn't a professional could use it against her were limited. Hebi, in contrast, knew at least five ways to use the simple decorations in a fight. Choking method, which was the basic default. She could also use it as a short whip, and with a strong snap to a pressure point or the eyes she could at least stun a guy or shock a weapon out of their hands. Wrapped around wrists, they could act as indestructible restraints. If she dropped to the floor, she could whip them around an ankle to send an attacker that was less than two feet out of reach sprawling. If wielded two-handedly, she could use it to block a weapon and then twist to separate it from its wielder. If she attached a weight to both ends, it could become a sort of bola that she could toss and send wrapping around the legs of someone trying to flee.

"I love it," she admitted right as she slipped the feminine chain over her head. The pendant on it was another snake, this time one that hung horizontally across the bottom of the chain with its metal body twisted in aesthetic curves over and under the chain. Hebi would notice once her shed came off that the pendant was actually in the design of a surprisingly realistic Red-Tailed _Boa_ in gunmetal-gray vibranium. "Thank you so much, Bucky! Tell the Princess thank you for me, too."

"Will do," the metal armed man confirmed with a grin and a small nod.

"Ah yes," Thor's loud voice interrupted the relaxed atmosphere and drew the attention to him. He propped his fists on his hips and smiled widely. "I hear you are quite the warrior for a Midgardian child. Perhaps I can see you spar some time?"

"Why not now?" Hebi asked, getting up from the couch and putting the empty ring box on the coffee table. Matt took the still half-full jewelry box from Hebi and tucked it under one arm. "I still have energy from my nightmare to work off, and now that I'm all happy and grateful I feel like showing off. Matt has been giving me tips for fighting blindfolded, you wanna test me Natasha?"

After all, Hebi didn't wanna risk taking a hit to the face and breaking her glasses but she still couldn't just show everyone her eyes in shed or fight with her eyes closed for no reason.

Nat snorted. "I'm pretty sure beating you up gets rid of any good karma I received from giving you a birthday gift, but you asked for it," she quipped good-naturedly. Hebi pointedly raised her hands and turned her hearing aids up—she'd need to be able to hear better to get away with halfway decent fighting without anyone getting suspicious.

Five minutes later found everyone in the training room, with Hebi having taken off her new jewelry besides her earrings and put on a black blindfold with her back to everyone else. Once she was ready, she turned and nodded.

"Try to actually make noise, Natasha, or else this will be pathetic," Hebi reminded the assassin, who nodded without a verbal confirmation and stood in a relaxed position a few feet away from the teen. She turned her head to the audience all lined up against one wall.

"Obviously I'm not gonna attack her as hard as I usually would since she's blindfolded, but I won't pull my punches as far as force goes either. Ready, Teal-Murdock?"

 _Teal?_ Loki thought, a small frown pulling at the corners of his lips. _Why is that part of her last name?_

"Ready," Hebi's voice dashed Loki's train of thought as the trickster turned his attention to her. He didn't expect much, humans typically weren't up to the same level of fighting prowess he was used to (some of the Avengers being a few of the rare exceptions) and she was even handicapped.

Natasha, allowing her steps to actually make sound, ran towards the girl and slammed one leg up towards Hebi's face. Catching the movement, Hebi had to force herself to not respond as well as she could have and raised one arm up to block the kick. Grimacing at what was definitely going to be a bruise on her forearm later, Hebi quickly adjusted herself so that the arm that blocked Natasha's kick grabbed that leg and allowed the smaller girl to heave the spy's body over her own to slam her down towards the floor. Nastasha managed to twist out of Hebi's grip and soften her landing before getting right back up and attacking again.

Hebi licked her lips, purposely using the heat of her tongue to blind her heat vision for a moment. If she was gonna do this, might as well actually try to test out some of Matt's tips that she hadn't actually lied about. She could feel slight wind coming from the direction of Natasha's fist, and managed to catch the wrist. Instead of throwing her this time, Hebi stepped in close and slammed her knee up towards Natasha's gut. The older woman managed to turn so that the hit only glanced against her side, but Hebi now is control of the dumbed-down fight. By staying as close to Natasha's body as possible, she could defend and attack fairly well despite being unable to see. She had less time to react, sure, but so did Natasha. Not allowing the redhead to regain momentum, Hebi grabbed her left arm while hooking one foot around her ankle. This tripped the spy up, allowing Hebi to follow the path of the woman's arm so that she could whip her forearm towards the assassin's face. Unable to dodge mid-fall, Natasha just turned her head so that she arm-slap only hit the side of her face instead of breaking her nose and braces herself as she hit the ground. Deciding that that was enough of a show for now, Natasha quickly sprung up and pinned Hebi down with suddenly-increased intensity to indicate the end of the spar.

"Jerk," the teen groused, annoyed at how Nat's palm was pressing her face into the floor. "Get off me now," she wiggled on the ground because she knew it annoyed the female avenger, who rolled her eyes before getting off and helping Hebi up.

"That was most impressive, young one!"

"Looks like you're gonna have a bruise on your cheek now, Nat," Rhodey pointed out, slightly concerned for Hebi's safety at that realization. Nat was occasionally a bit of a… sore loser, and getting hit by a blindfolded teenager probably didn't do wonders for the woman's pride even if she had been going easy during the fight.

"Yeah, I'll get her back when she comes in for training on Sunday," the redhead dismissed with a wave, making Hebi cringe from where she was putting her sunglasses back on. Yeah, the teen didn't miss that veiled threat. Training was gonna be a bitch.

"I'm able to fight way better without my sunglasses, but I don't want to risk them getting broken and I kinda need them on right now. You should come watch a better spar some time," she offered Thor, trying not to think about how _that_ spar would still be dumbed down even if Thor wouldn't know it.

"I shall see when my brother and I have time next," the blonde god assured kindly. "Now, let us watch the King of Lions! That movie is quite enjoyable. The lion named Scar reminds me of Loki," Thor laughed cheerfully even as his brother rolled his eyes and grumbled;

"That's odd, Mufasa is suddenly looking very similar to you, Thor."

Hebi had reached them by then, and snorted when her hearing aids allowed her to pick up the trickster's words. "Careful, Simba would probably be Peter," she softly warned the god, who huffed in agreement. The two liars made up the very back of the group as everyone walked back into the elevator to make their way up to the common floor again.

Yeah. It was a strange day for Hebi, but good. Even with the nightmare, the day was still good as a whole. Her fingers idly messed with her new ring. How would things continue to change for her in her odd life?

— ***—*—*—*—***

**Hey! There are some very subtle plot things going on here, but you aren't supposed to be able to notice them right now so don't worry if you don't. It means I did something right, lol. It's mostly a fluffy filler, and appreciate it. Plot will get thicker in a few chapters, and with it angst will come back.**

**I'm working again, and exhausted. Do me a favor guys, if you go to starbucks be nice to your barista. They probably have an aching back and there's a chance they've been up since 4:30am and have criminally thin shoe insoles. Plus they all have to memorize hundreds of different details and customizable stuff for coffees and… be nice to them. Please. And make conversation, they probably want to actually talk to you.**

**Aside from that! Thank you guys so very much for reading and I will see you next chapter!~**


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meh-quality sort of chapter with some plot.

I smiled in the mirror the morning that my shed came off, my Boa-pendant necklace and green snake-heart earrings on. It was Sunday, and I had had two male days right after Thanksgiving where I was able to break in the more masculine jewelry that Bucky had somehow known to provide me. Maybe someone had given him advice? He didn't seem like he was adjusted enough to know exactly what kind of present to get a teenager. Especially such a well-chosen gift as the ones he gave.

Yeah, he probably had help.

Regardless, it was really really nice. The fact that my earrings could be trackers should have bothered me, it should have set my assassin instincts rebelling… but it didn't. Maybe it was because Matt could already track me anywhere he wanted on his own, but it actually made me feel better to have the earrings on. If I caught myself having a breakdown or thought I was going to become a danger to someone, all it would take was a click or two and they could come to subdue me. It was nice knowing that there was a little extra assurance that I wouldn't be able to hurt people as easily as before.

"Hebi?" Matt called from the living room. I looked out of the open restroom door to see the back of my dad's crisp gray suit from where he was bent over to slip his shoes on. "I'm going out to work. Don't be late to your training, call me when you get to the Tower. If you have enough energy after dinner, we can go out to look for Tian again. I think she's holed up in hiding, but it wouldn't be bad to check," he offered, standing up once his shoes were on and straightening his tie. "Do you have an idea about what to do about her mutation? Her ability would make it pretty hard to keep her restrained, she could just touch vibranium and move it out of the way like clay. Indestructible clay."

I felt my nose scrunch at the thought of my old teacher, who was still MIA. Matt and I had been going out at least once a week, wasting patrol hours looking for her. She had somehow managed to hide her scent well enough, knowing my powers inside and out like she did, for us to come up completely blank. Every now and then we would catch her scent on a door handle or the corner of a building only for it to disappear not even a block away. It was baffling and beyond concerning—at that point, we were open to the possibility of her having a teleporter on her side. And that was terrifying. Trained assassin plus teleporting individual? Not a great combination to potentially be facing.

Still, though, we couldn't just let her get away. Not when she had her sights on me and would not hesitate to use the people around me against me.

"Yeah. I'll have to go tomorrow," I admitted with a sigh, rubbing my forehead. I was not looking forward to the visit I would have to make, but I was looking forward to missing school even _less._ Just a little normality, that's all I wanted. I didn't expect to live a completely normal life, I didn't think I could handle that and I didn't want that—but just a _little_ normality. Just a normal school life, that's all I wanted. And a normal day job after college. Was that too much to ask? I hoped not. "It's the soonest I could guarantee a meeting with him. He's a busy guy, and he has a whole building to look after and a lot of responsibilities."

"Uh huh," Matt nodded, used to the vague way I talked about my various connections. He knew he'd get the exact identity of who I was going to see (that was the deal we made after the whole building fiasco, after all), but not until he specifically asked. "Where does this friend live?"

I coughed into a fist, hoping he would have overlooked that question. "Uh. Upstate. In, Uh, Salem Center."

Matt's hand paused from where he had been about to grab his cane, and he turned his head to me with a single raised eyebrow.

"Upstate."

"Yep."

"Salem Center?"

"Also correct."

"Hebi, how in the world do you expect to get there tomorrow? You know I obviously can't drive you," he gestured to his glasses as if I needed a reminder. I grimaced. "Karen is still settling in at her new job. I guess we can ask her if she'll have time, but I wouldn't want to inconvenience her like that. Foggy and I are looking for a new secretary, we have interviews tomorrow. Which, by the way, is the only reason I'm stopping by the office today to go through paperwork before heading to the church."

"It's fine," I held up both hands in a surrender type of pose, realizing I had to change my plans a bit. "I was going to take the bus as far as I could and go from there, but—no, don't interrupt me—I guess I can go beg Strange for a favor. He can portal me over," I offered. I sighed at the thought of having to beg another favor out of the admittedly busy man. He already had to protect the entire reality from collapsing, asking for little favors as much as I had been during those past few months was making me uncomfortable. But, if it kept Matt from worrying too much or ranting, then… "but if he's busy fighting creatures trying to invade from another dimension, then I'm taking the bus and maybe ordering an Uber. I have enough money saved up, I think."

My dad just let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let's try getting you driving lessons over summer break, yeah? As much as it'll terrify me…"

"I mean, I've technically been _able_ to drive since I was ten, but formal lessons might be nice."

"I'm gonna ignore that," he pointed to me with the hand that held his cane even as he opened the door with his other hand. "And pretend it doesn't scare the crap out of me. Have a good day. Call me if you need anything. Try not to get into too much trouble, _please."_

"Will do," I agreed with a nod, and then he was out.

—*—*—*—*—*

I stepped out of the elevator in my yoga pants and short sleeved, blue-trimmed workout shirt, instantly raising my eyebrows at the form that was sprawled out on the couch with their feet propped up on one arm of the piece of furniture while they read from a book held over their face with one hand.

It wasn't hard to tell that she was having a female day, her body noticeably not the masculine one it had been before. I briefly felt jealousy run through me, but it didn't last. All things considered, my body was androgynous enough for me to not worry too much even now that I was cognizant of my fluid gender. Loki's hair was also longer than it had been before, only a few inches above the ground from where it hung over the side of the couch cushions.

"Umm. Hey, Loki," I greeted, walking slowly into the room and looking around. Nobody else was out that I could see. "Where's the Spy Trio? Natasha, Bucky, or Clint are usually waiting for me here on my training days."

The god closed her book, sitting up and setting it on the coffee book. Our eyes met for the first time (for me, anyway), and the shocking green of the orbs stole my breath for a moment. I had never seen eyes so vibrant before, it was definitely a shock. Oddly enough, Loki's eyebrows slightly furrowed for a split second after she met my eyes before her expression evened out again.

"Ah," she waved a hand dismissively. "They don't like spending much time around me, particularly the archer. They told me to tell you that they would be in the gym waiting for you," she relayed for me. I nodded, setting my backpack on the kitchen counter.

"Why?" I found myself asking as I took off my necklace, deciding to keep only my ring and earrings on for the sparring that day. I could feel through the ground as Loki stood up, walking towards me smoothly.

"Something I did to him during the whole event ten years ago. Do you remember anything from back then?"

Mentally, I applauded the god's subject change. Misdirection at its finest.

"I was five back then I think, almost six," I admitted slowly. "It was two months before my mom died, I think. I remember her keeping the news on and every time I asked if we should hide, she said we'd be fine and just stare at the screen. Even when she tried to soothe me, I remember her glancing at the news and sounding as if her mind wasn't actually on making me feel okay," My mouth twisted as I focused hard on trying to remember what had happened. "We lived far enough away from Manhattan that the chaos didn't reach us, but… I think it scared her. She drank a lot more than usual after that day, until she ended up killing herself with alcohol poisoning," I sighed, shaking my head at the memory. Loki's mouth pulled down into a deep frown.

"Do you blame me?"

"Huh?" I was caught off guard, and instantly shot my gaze up to his. I blinked, thoroughly confused. "Of course not. I mean, my mom was never the... healthiest, per say, in her drinking habits. Maybe she picked up her drinking a little because of the attack, but that wasn't the only reason she _continued_ to drink that badly for so long afterwards. I was constantly in the hospital, I was always getting hurt back then for stupid decisions I made as a reckless kid, and the bills that piled up because of it wasn't helping her stress at all. If anything, I blame myself sometimes," I ran my fingers through my bangs at the admission. "But her, too. I shouldn't. I shouldn't blame either of us, it was an addiction and I was a child. But as much as I loved her, I don't think I can ever fully forgive her for dying like that."

"I see…" was all the god said for a moment, but I wasn't going to let that slide. I recognized those behaviors.

"No," I turned to fully face the older woman, looking straight into her eyes. "The attack on New York wasn't of your own free will, correct?"

Loki, clearly having not expected my intense stare, blinked before clearing her throat and reluctantly nodding. "Yes, that is correct."

"Alright," I nodded once, solidly. "Then I don't blame you for anything that came of it. What did you do to Clint while you were acting against your will? I might have an idea on how to get him to at least be able to stand being alone in your presence for a while."

Loki scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sure. You are about as capable of getting him to forgive me as I am of forgiving the man who controlled me like a puppet. But I appreciate the sentiment, however futile it is."

"So you hypnotized him or something similar, then?" I asked, humming in realization. I had read a bit about the attack during my Dryad days, including some vague info about the staff that Loki had been using that apparently created an effect similar to brainwashing. "It'll take a while, the feeling of someone manipulating you like that isn't easy to forgive, but I might be able to make some progress. Give me two months before he's able to look you in the eye without sneering, 'Kay?"

Loki said nothing, just stared down at me with slightly widened emerald eyes on an otherwise stoic face.

I took the moment to turn and enter the elevator, completely missing the way Loki's gaze never left me or realizing how much I had given her to think about.

—*—*—*—*—*

Hebi took a deep breath Monday morning, standing on the doorstep of the Sanctum Sanctorum. The plain metal circle-stud earrings were in his ears, the more masculine chain around his neck, indicating a more masculine day for the teen. The boy took a moment before raising his hand to knock, only to be interrupted by the door swinging open and a harried-looking Strange standing on the other side. His salt-and-pepper hair was mussed, telling of a very recent fight that hadn't allowed him time to fix his appearance. He didn't look surprised at the teen's appearance, but let out an annoyed sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hebi," he greeted blandly. "Return the item you stole first, portal after. I just banished an entire hoard of nightmare-beasts, so if I hear a single argument I am closing this door and locking it."

The vigilante raised his hands in surrender, reaching into the backpack sling over one shoulder to pull out an ornate mirror that had the glass covered in a cloth.

"I never looked at it, even _I_ knew looking into a magical mirror was a bad idea," the hazel-eyed teen assured the Sorcerer as he handed the object over. Strange took it, examining the object before nodding and walking further into the Sanctum to replace it.

"Well, come on in!" The older man's voice called when Hebi didn't immediately follow. The boy snorted before complying, closing the door behind him. The fantastical surroundings were familiar to the young mutate by then, but he still took a moment to sweep his hazel eyes over everything. Some of the things, like the more ornate weapons hung on the walls, were just too much of a spectacle _not_ to look at every time he came over.

"Alright," Steven's voice came up again, the man smoothing out his hair as he came out of a side doorway. "Now, where do you want to go?"

Hebi's mouth twitched up slightly. It was always good to know that the sorcerer didn't know _everything._

"Salem Center, Upstate New York. If you can take me straight to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, that would be amazing."

"Xavier?" The man asked, eyebrows shooting up. "I'm going to assume you won't tell me why you need to visit such an important man so suddenly that you actually came to ask me to take you?"

"That would be a correct assumption," Hebi confirmed with a nod, a slight frown playing on his lips. "Sorry. It's personal though, my dad and I will take care of it."

"Hmm…" was all Strange said in reply to that as he readied his Sling Ring, and opened a portal. "I'll probably find out eventually, one way or another, anyway. Now go on, and call me when you need a portal back. I am assuming you still have my phone number?"

"I'm just surprised you even still have a phone," the teen teased before quickly stepping through the portal. He paused for a moment on the other side, looking at Strange for a long moment. "And thanks. It means a lot, Steven."

The portal closed right after that, but Hebi didn't miss the quick nod the impersonal man had given first. The boy felt his lips slightly curl up, at least until he looked around to take in his surroundings.

 _I don't think there is any way to NOT have this be trippy,_ Hebi thought to himself, taking in the trees and the bright green surroundings of the place that was very clearly _not_ New York City. The Sorcerer Supreme had apparently had enough foresight to drop her just outside the gates to the mansion so that she wouldn't spook anyone, which Hebi appreciated.

All it took was a quick scale of the gate and a quick walk up the path to the front door. Where, apparently, the students had been moved outside for a practice drill.

Hebi watched as the drill took place off to the side of the mansion, and was quickly called to a halt as a _certain_ teacher caught sight of him.

 _Oh boy,_ Hebi thought with an inner sigh. _Here comes the Stinkpot._

"You!" A familiar growl sounded, followed by an also-familiar _shiik_.

"Code Yeet," Hebi ordered softly, activating the emergency release on the chain around her neck just in time to use the necklace to block the six wickedly sharp blades that had curved towards the teen's face.

 _I was hoping to never have to use that verbal command,_ Hebi mentally lamented. _I think Princess Shuri has an issue with overusing pop culture._

"Vibranium," the man hissed, jumping back and disengaging, but keeping his claws out. "Where the hell did a brat like you get vibranium?"

"Nice to see you too, Logan," Hebi drawled in a bored tone of voice, but didn't put his necklace away. Instead, the boy held it easily between both his hands, legs spread out in a stance that showed he was ready to fight at a second's notice. "If you _must_ know, it was a birthday present that the Princess of Wakanda made for me. Well, she made it for me because someone else asked her to so that _he_ could give it to me for my birthday, but I'm pretty sure you don't care about that."

"You'd be right," the burly man agreed, still staring at Hebi very aggressively and keeping his claws out in an obvious threat. Hebi's eyes trailed down to the veritable swords popping out of his knuckles, three on each hand. Made of Adamantium, the metal second only in strength to Vibranium, Hebi would have definitely been in a tough spot without his new jewelry. "So why're you here?"

"To talk to me, Logan," a much more relaxed voice called out. Letting out a sigh, Hebi relaxed and slid his chain back over his head before clipping the clasp closed once more. With Xavier finally there, things would likely go much smoother.

Hebi never once forgot about the crowd of teens watching only a few yards behind the intimidating Logan, held back from going any further by a dark skinned woman that Hebi had only met once before, and only briefly at that—Storm. The woman's white hair was as striking as always, but Hebi forced his gaze away from the mutant that he knew could flatten him fairly quickly if she wanted to and instead onto the bald man rolling up to him on a wheelchair.

"Charles," Hebi greeted, smiling. "Please tell Stinkbug over here to stop attacking poor, defenseless sixteen year olds."

Wolverine snorted, finally retracting his claws. "Defenseless, my ass. Charles, why would you agree to talk to her? She's a murderer, and I don't trust her."

"Please Logan, you know Hebi did not choose that life for herself."

"She's dangerous," Logan pushed, probably remembering the first time he had met Hebi. "I don't trust her."

"You said that already," Hebi teased, pointedly keeping his gaze on Xavier instead of Wolverine when the burly man growled and glared at the teen.

"Logan, calm down," the professor pleaded again, his voice calm and grounding. "She is not going to be here long, at any rate. You said you wanted to talk about a favor, Hebi?" The man turned his gaze to the teen, who nodded.

"Yeah, I'll get out of your hair as soon as I can. I know when I'm not welcome," he confirmed. "I'm chasing down someone from my past, Tian Tasha. She's an assassin, as you can imagine, and has her sights set on killing me. I'm worried that she's going to target those around me, and I've finally managed to get my life in order. I'm off the streets, got adopted, I just want to arrest her before she can ruin any of that."

Charles nodded slowly, bringing his hands up and pressing his templed fingers to his lips in contemplation. "I see. What do you want us to do, exactly?"

"Tian's a mutant, unfortunately. She has the ability to change the physical properties of anything she touches. She can made even Vibranium act like dough, temporarily making it soft without ever taking away it's invulnerability. Obviously, this makes keeping her arrested a trick and a half."

"Oh _hell no,"_ Wolverine's growl interrupted, his hand clenching into firsts as he turned and stalked towards the young man. "Why don't you just kill 'er, eh? You're good at that. Asking us to give you mutant blocking handcuffs, do you think we're dumb or somethin', bub?"

Yeah. Logan was one of the few people on Earth who seemed to get under Hebi's skin with little to no effort. The usually hard to annoy teen spun towards the larger mutant with a glare and clenched fists.

"Don't you _dare._ I've gone almost a year without killing, and whether you believe me or not I'm trying to move _away_ from that stage of my life. I could look into your past and hold every mistake you've ever made over your head, you're not exactly the friendliest person in the world yourself you know? But I don't."

"Yeah?" Logan was only a foot away from the smaller boy then, towering over him. "Well, sorry if I'm not in any hurry to trust a former assassin whose name is just the word _snake_ in Japanese. You were standing over a body when I found you, what is to say you won't be standing over the body of someone here next, huh? Handing you something that dangerous doesn't sound like a good idea to me. I don't feel like signing my death warrant any time soon."

"You _fucking asshole,"_ it was Hebi's turn to growl, her leg shoot up to kick Logan in the side and send him flying several yards to smack into the side of the mansion. He didn't hit hard enough to do any bad damage, but a few cracks were made

In individual bricks here and there.

"Both of you stop!" Charles demanded, leaning forward in his wheelchair. "You are setting a bad example for the children, Logan. Stop antagonizing Hebi. Hebi, you should know that simply giving over a pair of those handcuffs to a virtual stranger is not exactly a plausible request. As much as I do not doubt your intentions, there are too many ways they can slip from your possession, I'm afraid."

Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, Hebi nodded. His hazel eyes kept track of Logan as the man carefully pulled himself up, rolled his shoulders, and stalked back over to stand protectively next to Xavier.

"I wasn't going to ask you to just hand them over, which you would know if Logan hadn't jumped the gun," Hebi punctuated his words with a brief glare at Wolverine. "I know that's too much to ask. Honestly, as much as Logan annoys the hell out of me, I know I'm still recovering and I wouldn't trust myself with something that powerful either. I'm working with Daredevil on tracking Tian down, but she knows my abilities too closely. She's completely hidden her scent trail, we've scoured the whole city several time and can only catch snippets of her scent. At this point, we're afraid she might have someone capable of making portals or teleporting helping her get around. I was hoping I could call you in the moment we track her down, backup wouldn't be a bad idea anyway," Hebi ran a hand through his bangs, frowning. "Daredevil and I should be enough to handle her, but we would need your help to actually arrest her and take her to a suitable facility. I know this is a lot to ask, but…"

Charles nodded, leaning back in his chair. Storm walked up from behind Hebi, who stepped to the side without having to look back in order to make space for the woman to join Xavier on the opposite side of him from Logan.

"It is not a bad request," the woman spoke slowly, a pretty African accent coloring her voice. "We can even send Logan when the call comes, so that he can make sure nothing goes awry."

Charles nodded. "I agree. And putting someone this dangerous behind bars is indeed a priority," he looked up to the teen. "I will do my own research on this Tian woman, and I will call you if I change my mind. However, for now we will be ready to send a jet with a few people and some blocking handcuffs for you. Is there anything else you need?"

Hebi shook her head, offering a lopsided smile. "No, thank you. You have already given me everything I could have hoped for. I just want my past done with, and getting Tian behind bars is just one step towards that goal. I'm sorry I interrupted your class," he bowed his head, pulling out his phone in preparation to call Strange when he was interrupted. Noticing a flurry of action, Hebi leaped backwards but was barely too slow to avoid all harm. A wave of hot pain flared over one leg, her jeans being cut off at the knee and two parallel slashes appearing on Hebi's calf.

"Woah!" Hebi exclaimed, ignoring the pain in favor of flipping in the air to avoid another strike and grabbing the offender by the back of the shirt with one hand, the attacking wrists with the other.

Hebi lost all ability to breath for a moment, eyes shot wide as he stared into the eyes of a child no older than ten. A little girl, with defiant eyes and a snarl on her face as she tried to wiggle out of Hebi's grip futilely.

"Claws…" Hebi muttered, seeing the girl's visible mutation and immediately noticing the similarities to a certain man standing only a few feet to the side, watching the scene with barely restrained anxiety. When the kid shot a claw out of each foot and tried to slice Hebi with those too, the older kid just curved her spine into an unnatural S shape, easily avoiding both strikes. That caused the kid enough confusion for her to momentarily stop her attacks long enough for Hebi to drop her and back up.

"Are you alright? Hebi?" Xavier asked, about to raise a hand to his temple when his arm was stopped by Logan's hand.

"Don't, Charles. Whatever is going through the brat's head, you don't want to see it," the man warned softly, his eyes never leaving the small girl and the teen.

Hebi's face was ashen, her gaze locked on the smaller girl. "How… your scent…" Hebi muttered, unable to hear herself. There was no mistaking it, it was like being able to match a kid to their parent. Her scent was too similar to Logan's for it to be a coincidence. "What's your name?" Hebi's voice was barely above a whisper, and she knelt down onto one knee in spite of the girl still being openly hostile. Hebi didn't even flinch when the girl slashed at his face, leaving two shallow cuts across Hebi's nose. Her lack of reaction clearly spooked the kid, forcing them to back up slowly and hesitantly.

"X...X-23," the girl answered haltingly, as if she wasn't quite used to speaking. The answer instantly sent Hebi's eyes clenching shut. A code. The kid went by a fucking _code._

"Her real name is Laura," Storm's voice spoke up softly, too softly to be heard by the teen. Once Charles told the white haired woman about that, Storm repeated herself more loudly. Hebi looked up, locking eyes with Storm in a silent question. "We found her at a facility a few days ago and took her in. She still won't refer to herself by her name though."

Hebi nodded, then turned to face Laura again. "Laura, then. I'm Hebi," the teen braved herself with one arm before moving to sit cross-legged on the ground, keeping her injured leg stretched out. "You were an experiment, weren't you?"

Claws sheathed in surprise even as the girl's back bristled. Hebi laughed humorlessly.

"No, don't worry. I am too," Hebi reached down and ripped the already torn leg of his jeans off, exposing his scarred leg even as blood dripped down it. "I don't have a healing factor though, so I have all these scars to tell my story. See, here," Hebi moved her leg so she could show off the inside of her right knee, where a distinctive burn mark lay. A brand. "This is where they marked me. The group that experimented on me were called Dryad, but they're gone now. My dad, the guy who adopted me earlier this year, he helped me put them all away in jail."

"...I cut you," the girl said, slowly walking forward with distrust all over her face. "You attacked Logan."

Hebi snorted. "Oh please, that stupid old man is fine. A kick or two isn't gonna kill that stink-bomb. You should make him take a shower. And don't take after him too much, kid, showers are good for your health. As for me, I wouldn't worry about it. Scratches like this don't bother me much anymore. My dad might freak out though."

"You smell funny," the girl remarked, which startled a laugh out of Hebi. The current boy was still chuckling when he looked up at the kid, the green in his eyes glinting happily.

"Yeah? Funny how?"

The girl's nose scrunched. "Funny like… dry flowers and metal and old paper."

"Old paper, huh? That's probably just from the place I was at before I came here, it's full of old books. I make tea though, I actually own a store where I sell tea online, so it makes sense that I smell like dry flowers. I don't know about the metal though, I'm wearing some," he showed off his ring, necklace, and earrings to the curious kid. "Can you get me some bandages? I don't think this bleeding is gonna stop on it's own any time soon and I gotta get home."

"You remember where the first aid kit is, don't you Laura?" Xavier asked, earning a quick nod before the young girl ran off into the mansion. Hebi sat back, breathing a sigh. "I'm sorry, I thought she was still in her room."

Hebi waved a hand. "Nah, I should have been more aware of my surroundings. Could have dodged completely if I had been," Hebi's eyes swung up to a suspiciously quiet Wolverine. "Guess you're a dad against your will then, huh? Her scent is too similar for it to be a coincidence. And the mutation, obviously. Did you at least get every messed up f—"

"Language," Charles interrupted.

"—Fudger that did that to her? Poor kid's gonna have years of adjustment ahead of her, you can't just call her dangerous if she has a relapse you know? I'm lucky you have the healing factor and reinforced bones that you do, or else I might've accidentally killed you back then. You know that wasn't on purpose, right?" Hebi closed his eyes and laid back onto the grass with a sigh.

"How old were you back then, anyway?" Logan asked, crossing his arms. "Older than her, right? Old enough."

"I had just turned thirteen, idiot," Hebi replied, not opening his eyes. "Not _that_ much older."

"I thought you were, like, sixteen," he retorted, eyebrows furrowed. "You acted like it. Talked a lot of shit even back then."

"You were an ass!" Hebi defended himself, opening one eye to glare at the other man. "But no, I _just_ turned sixteen on Thursday. Seriously though, I'm lucky enough that my abilities meant I just ruptured a few of your internal organs. _She_ makes people bleed. That's more visual, it'll hurt her more. You can't run away if she needs you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever brat."

"She ruptured a few of _Logan's internal organs?_ On _accident?_ " An incredulous voice asked, making Hebi tilt his head back to see who had spoken. It was a boy maybe a year younger than Hebi, but he was covered head to toe in short dark blue fur and had a tail. Hebi blinked, accidentally locking eyes with him. The boy tended, clearly expecting a bad reaction.

"I was injected with radioactive snake DNA. I'm a mutate," he told him, doing his best job of shrugging while laying down. "That means my specialty is constriction and flexibility. But Logan's bones are coated in Adamantium, so I can't break them. I can break or twist most metals, so he's lucky there. Unfortunately, that doesn't protect his spleen, kidney, or liver from rupturing when I constrict his torso."

"That doesn't explain the "accident" part," a brunette guy spoke up, making Hebi blink. He was wearing specialized glasses that went across his face in a single lense, and had buttons on the sides. Clearly something specifically for training or missions.

"I don't know if it's just the glasses, but you look _just_ like a younger version of my dad. It's kinda scary honestly, like what the fuck? Except my dad's a natural redhead," Hebi replied, slowly sitting up and turning to face them. Laura came out just then with the first aid kit, which Hebi accepted with a smile and started using to patch herself up. "He's blind, so he always wears red-tinted glasses. Anyway. Like I told Laura," Hebi jerked his head to indicate the kid. "I'm an experiment. Kidnapped when I was six, yadda yadda, tragic backstory. Point is, they trained me to be an assassin. I killed a lot of people and I won't lie about that," Hebi frowned as he wrapped the gauze around his newly cleaned leg wounds. He flinched slightly when Laura reached forward, but after a moment allowed the kid to place a large bandaid over the scratches on his nose with a soft thanks. "I escaped when I was twelve, lived on the streets trying to become normal. Logan ran in to me during a relapse. I had a panic attack and ended up switching into Assassin Mode without meaning to. Once I "woke up" and realized what I did, I just ran. He found me later and I tried to explain, but he didn't listen and we fought again. I finally managed to hide my scent and get away, and now here we are."

"Okay…" the boy replied slowly, clearly still a little confused. Probably more about the beginning of what Hebi had said than anything else. "Did any other kids from that place get o—"

"No," Hebi cut him off, staring down at the grass as his chest filled with heavy guilt and freezing sorrow. "They all died during experimentation or training. I was the only survivor."

Hebi tied off his bandaging, having used it to cover all his leg instead of just the injury so that his scars would still be hidden. "Anyway. On that lighthearted note," he said sarcastically, heaving himself up so he was standing again. "It's about time for me to go," Hebi pressed the call button on her phone, which had already been pulled up to the right number. "Thank you guys, honestly. I appreciate the help a lot."

"Yeah, just try not to kill anyone between now and then, bub."

Hebi flipped Logan off unapologetically, knowing the burly man still didn't like her at all. He probably only grudgingly liked Laura because she was like a piece of him. And younger.

The call hung itself up right as a portal opened up behind Hebi. The teen turned around, looking into the face of a stoic Strange. He raised one eyebrow.

"That was fast. Hurry up, I don't have all day."

"Yeah, whatever you sour puss," Hebi replied cheerfully, waving to everyone behind him (and flipping off Logan again) before stepping through the portal and back into the Sanctum.

"Why are you bandaged?"

Oh yeah. That would be fun to explain to Matt.

"Would you believe me if I said I fell down stairs?"

— ***—*—*—*—***

**So, I tried something new out with Hebi's gender. Tell me if you guys liked it or if it was too confusing, I can always go back to just using she/her and only mentioning whenever she has a masculine day instead. I'm open for whatever.**

**Don't have much to say this time. I don't think this turned out great, but I'll let you guys decide that. Until next time guys,**

**Thank you so much for reading and see you next chapter!~**


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, wait a minute... you mean to tell me that PLOT actually EXISTS for this story?! And it THICKENS here?! 
> 
> Woah. 
> 
> Never woulda guessed!

So, Matt might have been omitting something from what he told Hebi about his patrols. She could catch lies almost as easily as he could most days, but omissions were harder for her to spot. That's why he was out, in full costume, before dusk while Hebi was at the Tower breaking in her new lab.

If he was being honest, Matt both loved and hated the Tower and all the new friends Hebi had there and all the time she spent there. On one hand, it made her happy and it was healthy for her to have a place outside of home where she felt safe and loved visiting. On the other hand, he got to spend so much less time with her than before. She was going over on Sundays, where she usually wouldn't be home until right after dinner. That stung a bit, considering Matt would have liked to visit the church with her on those days, but he also knew her stance on practicing religion (which was extreme discomfort), so he tried not to let it bother him. And, most of the time, it didn't. And then there were the Fridays and Saturdays, where she would go over to the Tower on at least one of those days if not both. And she went over during the week if she had a project to work on with Peter— and considering the school they went to, that was at least once or twice a month.

So, he missed his daughter. And what did Matthew Murdock do when he was in pain and didn't want anyone to know? Why, throw himself into vigilantism and beat up low-lives of course.

But, for the past month or so, he had been going out on Friday evenings for more than just beating criminals up. It was to look for Tian on his own, when Hebi was less likely to know that he was out of the apartment and get suspicious.

But, damn it, her stress over Tian was part of the reason she ran away to the Tower so often. She had plenty of distractions there to help her forget about her slippery issue from the past. And if Matt could catch Tian and prevent Hebi from having to go through the pain of confronting one of the bastards from her Dryad days, then it was worth it.

And if he had thought things through a bit more, maybe he wouldn't be in his current predicament.

"Woah, you're Daredevil!" A heart-sinkingly familiar voice called out cheerfully. Matt just stood on top of the roof he was on, still as a statue and intimidating in his silence. Well, that's what it looked like anyway. Inside, he was silently panicking.

Why did there have to be _any_ teenaged vigilantes, anyway, let alone two? Honestly, life was cruel to make kids think they owed so much to the world, to make them carry such a weight. It was hard enough for the adults.

"Hey, uh, what'cha doing out so early anyway? Aren't you the brood-at-midnight and punch-people-in-pitch-dark-alleys kinda guy? I mean, it's cool that you're getting extra hours in and all, but it's weird seeing you when it's still light out."

Oh lord, could the kid _talk._

 _Come on, Matt_ , he thought to himself. _You have to talk to the kid or else he'll repeat this exact encounter to Hebi and all the avengers because he'll be confused or heartbroken, and Hebi will_ _ **not**_ _be happy about your secret patrols._

"Looking for somebody, I didn't want Boa to have to deal with this so I had to leave when she wouldn't notice," he chose to tell the spider-kid, making extra sure to keep his voice gruff and low.

Peter tilted his head, humming for a moment. Matt took a second to realize that the mask had a voice modulator—it must have been fairly new. It barely made any mechanical sounds, even to Matt's advanced hearing, but because of just how advanced that hearing _was,_ the machine couldn't quite hide Peter's natural voice from him. Even if it could, Spider-Man's scent was still the exact same as Peter Parker's (except extra sweaty).

"Back around Halloween, Boa and I teamed up for a patrol during the day. She said she was looking for someone back then too, did you find them?"

Raising a brow under his cowl, Matt had to fight the smirk that wanted to rise onto his lips. Of course he'd pick up on that, the kid was smart. "Actually, that's who I'm looking for. We never found them, but I want to get to them before Boa."

"Why? Is it a race thing? Friendly rivalry?"

The boy never stopped asking questions, did he?

"More like, Boa doesn't need the emotional trauma she'll go through if she has to face them."

The more petite vigilante's spine straightened, as he suddenly stood at attention.

"Dryad…" the boy mumbled. Matt flinched, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders.

"How do you know that name?"

Judging by the way Peter's whole body flinched and he took a step back, that question had come out much more aggressive than Matt had intended.

"When Boa and I first met, she said the two of you were taking down the last members. She said something about Dryad's experiments and her grudge with them being personal," the spider themed teen recited, voice tense. "I looked into it, and I had Cl—Hawkeye and Black Widow, look into it for me too. Is… does this have to do with Dryad? Did you not get everyone?"

Matt sighed, turning his head as if he was looking over the New York skyline. In reality, he let his hearing stretch out a bit in the hopes that a crime could allow him a reason to deflect. Of course, the one time he _wanted_ a crime there was none nearby to be heard.

"Yes and no," he finally admitted, clearly reluctant to be sharing that information. "The scientists, guards, and executives are all dealt with. But Dryad trained kids to be assassins—they tried anyway, but Boa was the only survivor. The teachers they brought in were, according to Boa, always temporary. Mercenaries, assassins, thieves, even crooked military or long time criminals. They'd hire them, sometimes for only a couple months and sometimes for a year or two until it was time to switch out teachers. Boa said they thought it would help the kids be well rounded killers instead of one-trick ponies," Matt fiddled with one of the billy clubs at his hip. "It also helped cover their trail, so people didn't get too suspicious as to why a wanted mercenary always came to the same hideout for years on end."

"So, it's one of her old teachers? That's who you're looking for?" Peter asked, ever quick to catch on. "But that means…"

"She's a mercenary specializing in assassination, yeah," Matt confirmed grimly. "And facing down the first person to ever make her take a life isn't something I want her to go through if I can help it. But she's gone off the grid, Boa and I haven't seen any sign of her in months. We know she's still somewhere in the city, she has her eyes set on killing Boa and she won't be giving up anytime soon."

Spider-Man's body was completely tense at the news. He had only patrolled with Boa once, but he liked her. Something about her was just easy for him to be comfortable around.

"I can he—"

"No," Matt stubbornly cut off Peter before he could even finish his suggestion. "You're skilled kid, but you're not ready for something this level yet. Tian will kill you if she gets the chance, and I doubt you've improved enough in the past few months to stand much of a chance."

Peter was a little offended, and Matt could tell by the way his posture changed and the teen subconsciously shifted to make himself look bigger. Matt knew he was right though.

"Come with me on my patrol, then."

Matt pauses, caught off guard. What?

"Why? In case you weren't listening, I'm looking for somebody right now."

"Oh, I was listening," Peter retorted, rocking on his heels. "I especially heard the 'we've found no trace of her yet' part, which means you aren't super likely to find anything new today either. So, tag along and watch me do my thing and help me web up some bad guys. If you still think I'm not ready, then fine. But give me a chance to prove you wrong."

Matt took a second.

"'Bad guys'?" He repeated incredulously.

Was the kid ten or something?

Despite the nonchalant shrug that Spider-Man gave, Matt could still sense the raging blush spreading over the boy's face under his mask.

"Okay. But I have one condition." Daredevil spoke, raising his chin a bit. Combined with his still-crossed arms and costume, he cut an intimidating figure.

"I'm all ears!" The younger vigilante assured energetically. Matt paused for effect.

"You can't tell Hebi Teal-Murdock that you saw me today at all."

—*—*—*—*—*

Wait. What?

Peter blinked, his mask copying the action. Why did Daredevil not want him to tell Hebi? How did he even _know_ Hebi? And most importantly— _what the hell?_

Apparently he said that last part out loud, because it actually got a small snort out of the stoic brooder in front of him. If Peter didn't know any better, he would think that Daredevil was fighting a smirk. But he _did_ know better and that was impossible. Daredevil probably _never_ smiled, even out of costume. It was just unfathomable.

"I know her and her dad. Helped Murdock out with the whole Fisk situation," Daredevil grumbled out in his usual low tones. "Hebi is the one who forced me to allow Boa to come on patrols with me every now and then. She can be really pushy when she wants to be."

Yeah, Peter valued his life so he would _never_ relay _that_ bit of info to his friend. Especially since he agreed.

"Wait. That means Hebi knows Boa?" Peter asked, oblivious to the way that question made the older vigilante silently panic and recall his lying lessons with his daughter.

"Apparently they met a couple times when Hebi was out on the streets. Since Hebi told me she was friends with you, I assume you've already seen how many powerful 'friends' she has," the man said, to which Peter thought of Doctor Strange and Hank Pym, and nodded. Hebi had the strangest luck with finding strong friends.

"How do you know Hebi, though?" Peter couldn't help but ask again, narrowing his eyes as his mask copied the motion once more. He couldn't help but feel it was odd. "Another of her random friends?"

"You can say that," Double D said cryptically before following up with; "She apparently balances out her good luck at finding friends with extremely bad luck when it comes to getting attacked in alleyways at midnight. I helped her out and took her to Murdock since I knew he could be trusted."

Hebi deserved a medal for "best lie instructor."

Peter perked up at that news. Daredevil was the one who introduced Hebi and Matt? _He_ was responsible, at least partly, for Hebi's adoption? That was news to the teen. What else was Hebi not telling him?

Then again, Daredevil didn't have the best reputation. He couldn't blame her for keeping the fact that she knew him close to heart.

"Al...alright," he agreed reluctantly. "I won't tell her I met you today. But, uh, why do you care if she knows?"

"I apparently overwork myself and she'll be pissed if she finds out I patrolled during the day without Boa," the other man deadpanned.

Peter winced.

"If it makes you feel any better, she harps on me for patrolling too much, too."

"Yeah, I know. So, are we just going to gossip together on a random roof until midnight, or..?"

"Oh, right!" Peter jumped up in realization that he was wasting patrol time. "Come on, follow me!"

"Wa—and he's gone," Peter barely heard Daredevil say as the older man tried to follow him via the rooftops. It took a second to sink in that not everybody could navigate the city via synthetic spider webs, so Spider-Man was quickly moving out of Daredevil's range of sight (not that that _meant anything,_ but Peter didn't know that). The boy slowed down, standing sideways on a building's wall until Double D caught up, and then took off again. They repeated this routine a few times until they came across a mugging.

Peter swing in before Daredevil could even get off his roof, and wrapped everything up nice and neatly to prove a point. Except, when he looked over he was just, once again, greeted by a brooding figure with crossed arms and an unreadable frown.

"What'd I do?" Spider-boy asked, confused. The older man tilted his head.

"He has a knife."

"Wait, wha— and the chase is on, I guess!" While Spidey had assumed the fight was over, the guy had cut himself free and started taking off in the opposite direction. Five minutes later, he was _properly_ disarmed and webbed up for the cops. "Second time's the charm?" He tried, shrugging at Daredevil, who didn't gratify that with a response.

Oh, looked like Pete had his work cut out for him.

And, well, if he spent the next three hours coaxing Daredevil not to break arms while also making doubly sure that he didn't slip up again so that he had the best possible chance of passing the man's strict test, nobody had to know. He couldn't tell Hebi anyway, and Ned was out of the question since he could barely keep a secret from people _without_ Hebi or Michelle's level of observation. So, yeah. Nobody had to know.

Unbeknownst to him, Matt had never really considered passing him. Sure, if Peter surprised him enough he would keep the option ( _very_ reluctantly) open. But he rather not put Hebi's best friend in the line of fire of her past. That would just spell disaster.

—*—*—*—*—*

It was dinner time when Hebi came back up from her lab. She had spent over two and a half hours looking at snake DNA and trying to isolate compounds and proteins responsible for certain effects. Her eyes hurt from paying such close attention to tiniest of details, and she rubbed them as she walked out of the elevator.

When she removed her hands from her face, she had to blink. What seemed like every Avenger, resident of the Tower or otherwise, was gathered in the common room whispering about something. The Wakandans that were considered members were not present, but both Asgardians were. Though, that could have been a coincidence.

Somehow, Hebi doubted they were talking about Christmas shopping.

The fact that everyone shut up the moment they were aware of her presence kind of alluded to that.

Hebi raised an eyebrow, looking out over all the familiar faces. Natasha, Wanda, Peter, Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, Loki, Scott, Hope, Vision, Rhodey, Pepper, Clint, Bucky, even _Strange._ Why the hell would they be practically gossiping and not want her to hear?

"Do I even want to know?" She asked slowly, eyes narrowing. "Because I have a very strange feeling that I don't. But whatever you guys are doing behind my back, I suggest you think it through _really well_ , because if I don't like it I will retaliate. I don't think we need a reminder about the pudding and robot ants incident, do we?"

Scott winced and Tony grimaced.

Hebi nodded in satisfaction, turning to see that nobody had started dinner. How long had everyone been talking?

"Uh, are we getting delivery or something? I can go home early if you guys are planning on having a later dinner," she offered, her eyes habitually scanning the kitchen for any clues as to why food had not been started to be made. She found nothing, everything was oddly in place and in it's usual chaotic order.

"Uh, yeah. We're having a movie night tonight and are gonna order pizza later. You don't have to go, though—"

"Nah, it's okay," Hebi interrupted Tony with a shrug. "My dad wants me home soon anyway. I think he misses having dinner with me on the weekends, but refuses to admit it," she confessed. "He's a self-sacrificing idiot that way. I'm sure he'll like the surprise, maybe I should buy us Italian before he can get anything for himself…" Hebi trailed off in thought, until her phone rang. Hebi's eyebrows instantly furrowed, and she pulled the StarkPhone from her pocket. Everyone watched as her eyes widened, a frown tugging at her lips.

It was a video call, but it didn't say who it was from. It just had a number—a number that Hebi knew from experience was from the prison. She had made it a point to memorize them in case Matt had to call from a prison phone after a consulting session or something with a client. But Matt was already at home, he had called just ten minutes earlier to let her know exactly that.

"FRIDAY, I have no idea who this is. Put up a hologram behind me of me and Matt's apartment, would you? Quickly."

Once the hologram was up, making it look to an outsider as if Hebi was in her kitchen, she pressed the answer call button and discretely gestured for Friday to project the call so everyone could see it.

The face she saw made Hebi instantly go into something she called Actress Mode. Slipping into the persona of "Little Hebi Teal" that she had concocted for when she wanted people to underestimate her, she widened her eyes in false fear.

"Y-you're— But—how? Why? H-how did you get this number?!" Hebi asked, stuttering in a very convincing manner that only those close to her would know was entirely out of character. She even allowed her arms to slightly tremble.

Wilson Fisk smiled serenely, and menacingly, from his side of the call. He was clearly in a tailored suit, much like the ones he wore when he was a free man, but the background of the call was clearly a cell wall.

"Isn't it funny how much the offer of a little money or power can get a man, even in the very place that said things are supposed to be rendered useless?" He answered without really answering. "Of course, threats work just as well on those who are a little harder to sway," he straightened his jacket calmly, as if what he was saying was of no real consequence.

Hebi swallowed, making sure it showed without being overly obvious, and took a shaky breath. "What do you want?"

Fisk chuckled, apparently thinking that she was just a normal fifteen year old and responding just as he expected. With clichés and trembles.

"Oh, dear Hebi. It isn't so much what I want as what your father deserves. You see, Murdock didn't defend me like he should have. He is a defense attorney, and yet he did not protect me. You see where the issue lies?" The man raised his head slightly, as if examining the teen. "So, I did some digging. And I'm sure you already know what I found out about your _heroic_ foster father, don't you?"

 _Shit._ Hebi thought, not missing the way the man phrased that. He knew. He knew about Matt being Daredevil.

"Of course, I also know that you're doing an absolutely _splendid_ job of acting scared. But you aren't, are you?" The man's grin only widened when Hebi's gaze snapped to his. "Oh, I did my digging on you, too. After what I found out about Murdock, it didn't make sense for him to adopt a random child. But you aren't random. I wonder, what does it feel like to lie about who you are to your friends? To your whole school? To the _Avengers?"_

"So you found out some illegal shit, big whoop," Hebi deadpanned, her entire personality changing seemingly for no reason. Her face was impassive, and her tone was blunt and dry. "Looking into my background, that I understand. But my friend's? What, do you expect a bunch of teenagers to jump you in your sleep or something? Are you _that_ much of a coward?" Hebi showed no visible reaction to the answering stiffening of Fisk's shoulders, but she was inwardly proud of herself. He felt insulted. Good. "Although, I legitimately don't know why you'd call me. So I did some illegal shit on the streets, I needed to survive. What are you gonna do, tell people?" Hebi scoffed, changing her voice to a purposely annoying falsetto; "Oh no, heaven _forbid_ a girl pulls cons on criminals to get the money to survive! Robbing burglars and would-be rapists blind isn't _morally right!"_

Fisk's chuckle was not promising. "Oh, I know that isn't all you did. After everything you've been through, loyalty must be a flexible thing. Living on a couch can't be comfortable. Running your own business to keep a comfortable income, dealing with his eccentricities, it can't be—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, you giant sack of lard," Hebi's voice had gone icy, barely loud enough for her to hear herself. "If you honestly think I'm gonna turn against Matt, then you aren't anywhere near smart enough to be able to call yourself a crime boss. You have five seconds to say something intelligent before I hang up."

Fisk's cheeks were burning red in anger, but he opened his mouth nonetheless.

"Oh, look, time's up. Better luck next time. If a round of chess is what you want, you'll have to move your king out of check first. I have no issue with resuming the game for Daredevil."

Not allowing the bald man time to respond, she hung up and the hologram behind her faded out. The entire room was silent, but Hebi was under no illusions. Everyone was focused on her, watching her every micro-expression for any sign of distress or any clue as to what the fuck had just happened.

Her face was blank. Utterly devoid of emotion and eerily still. Nobody in the room had ever seen her in such a state before—she was usually snarky, relaxed but attentive. If nothing else, she would usually have intelligence playing on her face in some way as she examined a situation—but never had they seen this utterly emotionless-seeming state of calm from her.

Slowly, Hebi walked backwards and allowed her hand to wrap around the first thing that she could grab. It was an empty thermos, left there by one of the Avengers. Hebi, never once showing any speck of feeling on her face, hurled it at the wall. Slowly, as if releasing her inner thoughts atom by atom, _fury_ appeared in her eyes, then her nose and mouth, until she was _trembling_ with it.

"Hebi," Peter spoke up, concerned. Natasha and Bucky were already standing up, clearly ready to head over at the first sign of things getting out of hand. But, at her friend's voice, Hebi took a sudden deep breath as if she didn't realize she had been holding her breath, and some of the tension slipped out of her shoulders even though she was still trembling with anger. She leaned her weight on one fist, which was propped on the kitchen counter.

"I'm fine," she ground out, the tenseness in her voice belaying her lie. "But you guys can't take action on this."

" _What?"_ That cry came from several people at once.

"Listen," Hebi looked over at them, frowning. "He knows you guys adopted Peter, and he knows Peter is my best friend. He won't make a move on us yet. Not when he knows that one step out of line will land him in the Raft because of you guys, where he won't have the comfortable life he seems to have in prison right now," she worked her jaw, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "By the way, that pisses me off too. Wearing a fucking suit in his prison cell," she forced herself to take a deep breath.

"We can put him in the Raft already," Steve spoke up, clearly concerned. He had his hands up too, and spoke softly as if she was a frightened animal. "He clearly has the prison treating him like a VIP, that's not okay." Hebi glanced over at him, straightening up and smoothing her shirt down.

"No. Not yet," she looked out of the window to gather her thoughts. "With the amount of sway he has, people will know if he gets sent to the raft. They'll talk, and people will wonder why a guy who is unenhanced got sent to a high-security prison made to house the worst of the worst. Plus, not everyone is convinced that he's a villain yet. He's a charismatic son of a bitch, and he convinced most of the city just last year that he'd make a good mayor. It would cause an uproar, maybe even an investigation that reveals how you adopted Peter. No, let's wait until he gets out of prison on his own. He's looking for people to work for him, so he's planning something. I'll just have to plan better than him. I gotta go home and check on Matt, I can handle this," she sent them a smile even though she had just thrown a thermos at a wall hard enough to crack it not even two minutes earlier. Nobody was swayed.

"Wait," Thor called, making Hebi stop from where she had been gathering her things in preparation to head home. She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "How do you intend to handle this? I mean no insult, but you are still a child. If I understand correctly, he is an influential criminal who knows what he's doing. How—"

"Let's just say I know some people," she interrupted the god, straightening her back. "And for your information, _I_ know what I'm doing too. This isn't the first time an asshole has tried to manipulate me. Any other questions?"

Everyone shared a glance, but it was Rhodey who spoke up first, leaning forward onto his knees to get a better look at the teen.

"What did he mean, everything he said about loyalty and the crimes he clearly thinks you did?"

Hebi paused, shifting her backpack and pursing her lips. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to tell the truth either.

"Living on the streets as a girl is hard. Living on the streets of New York City as a _teenaged_ girl is Hell. I don't want to elaborate right now. Obviously you heard part of it already, but I made sure to only con the people I already knew were criminals. And if I broke an arm once or twice, you didn't hear it from me."

"That doesn't seem to be what he was talking about," Rhodey pushed, and the way Hebi clenched her jaw didn't instill any confidence in him. He wanted to think the best of Hebi, but…

The teen stared down the colonel silently, almost a comedic sight since she was so short and had a backpack on her back and was clearly so _young._ But stare she did, clearly not intimidated by the man (or all the other eyes on her) at all.

"Was that your thermos? I can pay you back for it."

"Hebi."

"Colonel James Rhodes. You'll have to trust me on this."

"How much do we even _know_ ab—"

"Uncle Rhodey," Peter interrupted, but he was locking gazes with Hebi as he spoke. "My spidey sense isn't going off."

"Pete…"

"I trust her, Rhodey. She already told me she had secrets she wasn't ready to share, and I trust her. She'll tell us eventually, just let her make sure Mister Murdock is okay."

Everything about Hebi relaxed, from her posture to her face. The expression she gave her friend was something that could only be described as absolute, complete, pure gratitude.

"I'll make it up to you, Pete," she whispered, not caring that he'd hear her voice horribly out of tone since she couldn't hear herself. "I promise. Thank you."

Peter just smiled widely. "We're friends, right? Don't worry about it, just go make sure he's okay."

Hebi nodded, a small smile flitting on her lips for a moment even among her worry before she turned and jogged into the elevator.

"You can't threaten him either! That'll ruin my plans!" She called out to everyone as the elevator doors closed. Silence reigned after she left. And then;

"When she said she knows people, she was totally talking about Daredevil and Boa, wasn't she?" Tony asked out loud. Wanda was nodding.

"Oh, definitely. We're still going to keep a close eye on him and the prison aren't we?"

"Yes," Steve answered resolutely. "Of course we are."

"Why are you letting her take the lead on this?" Loki asked, frowning at everyone else that was gathered. "I don't know who that man was, but he is clearly not somebody a child should be allowed to face on their own, especially after what we just discussed."

"She's survived sixteen years dealing with people stronger than her," Natasha interjected, crossing her arms. "Hebi can deal with this, too. Besides, it will be at least a few months before Fisk can get himself released, so this isn't an immediate issue. If it helps you sleep any better, Loki, Bucky, Clint and I will make sure to keep up to date with whatever Hebi's plan is and what stage she's at with it. If she gets into trouble, we'll bail her out."

"And if you can't?" The god pressed. Natasha's eyebrows rose.

"Be careful, or people might think you're going soft. If we can't, for some reason, bail her out, then we will call someone else in the Avengers. If they can't either, we'll call Strange. And, finally, if Strange can't do anything then we'll call you."

It was very obvious that even with Loki's apparent switch over to the side of not-evil-but-not-a-hero-either, none of the people in the room with him (besides Thor and Bruce) trusted him much at all. Sure, they could sometimes escape with being somewhat casual with the god of mischief, like at Thanksgiving, but trust… well, they just weren't there yet.

Loki huffed, crossing his arms. He knew that was the best he could hope for from them, so he'd just have to get back to his own usual tricks and keep an eye on the child on his own terms.

"Fine."

He had his reasons to keep up with her wellbeing, after all. Reasons she, if he played his cards right, wouldn't know about herself for at least a few years— if ever. He wasn't entirely sure about whether or not he'd let her find out at all, actually, but she was clearly intelligent so he might not have control over that. But stalling a few years? He figured he could do that. After all, what was a teenager when pitted against the God of Mischief, Lies, and Magic?

—*—*—*—*—*

It was Monday, two days after the fiasco of Friday and all the motions it had brought (Matt had been _livid_ at Hebi's report of the call, and had proceeded to go complete Devil of Hell's Kitchen for the night, much to the despair of every criminal he ran into). However, Matt realized something— it was the first Monday of December.

And he still hadn't bought Hebi a Christmas present.

Sure, she was enjoying the stuff she had gotten from him, Karen, and Foggy for her birthday. Matt had gotten her a set of metal tea containers, which were apparently designed with chemistry and biology puns. Matt didn't know for sure since he couldn't see them, of course, but he had had to buy them the moment Foggy pointed them out. Speaking of which, his best friend had bought Hebi a giant bowl of black cherry ice cream and a gift card to Marble Slab, whereas Karen had bought the teen three whole sets of clothes. Apparently Karen had picked up on the genderfluid thing before either of the guys, because one of those three outfits was entirely masculine.

And, well, there was an obvious issue with Matt's late Christmas shopping dilemma. Namely; he could navigate just fine, and do most things better than a sighted person could, but gift shopping wasn't really one of them. He needed someone to help him spot designs or other things that could only be spotted by eyes that registered light, but Karen was busy at her new job as an up-and-coming investigative reporter, and Foggy was showing their new secretary Becky the ropes.

He needed someone who could see, knew Hebi well enough to know what kind of gifts she would like, could sneak out with Matt late at night when Hebi was asleep, and had a place to hide the gifts where Hebi wouldn't sniff them out before the holiday.

The answer came to him quickly—Peter. Not wasting a moment, since Hebi was due to come home from school any minute, he pulled out his phone and used the voice command to call the boy. He answered on the second ring.

"Mister Murdock? You've never called me directly before, is Hebi okay? I'm being driven home right now but if something happened I'm sure I could turn—"

"Peter, calm down," Matt interjected, having to hold back a laugh at the usual energy coming from the teenager. "Nothing's wrong. I just haven't gotten Hebi a Christmas present yet and I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping for her with me? As embarrassing as it is, I need someone to guide me and help me find a good gift, but my friends are busy."

"Oh!" Peter sounded legitimately surprised, which made Matt smile. He was glad Peter was Hebi's friend, he was a good kid. "Yeah, I can do that! I mean, if you don't mind. Wait, of course you wouldn't be asking me if you minded, forget I said anything. Except that I agreed, don't forget that!" The boy cleared his throat, and the lawyer could already imagine the poor boy's face being completely covered in a harsh blush at his own stammering. Matt couldn't quite hold back his chuckle but if Peter heard, he ignored it. "Uh, anyway, when were you planning on going? I can go tonight if you want, the earlier we go the better for things like this."

"Yeah," Matt agreed, mentally shifting through his schedule. "I can go tonight, if we stall too long she might pick up on our planning. Oh, and would you be able to hide the gifts over at the Tower? If I keep them here she'll find them and ruin the surprise."

"No problem, Mister Murdock!" Pete agreed easily. "What time did you have in mind?"

"Maybe around eight? I can tell Hebi that I'm gonna go visit Karen or something while she finishes her homework. Is that okay for you?"

"Absolutely, sir! Do you know the way to the mall? I can meet you there if you want. Or I can meet you at your apartment and walk you there if you need me to, but I understand if you're more independent than that and don't want me to."

Matt's smile softened. He really was a good kid, Hebi lucked out.

"Don't worry Peter, it's better if I meet you at the mall anyway. Otherwise, Hebi might see you and ruin our plan," Matt paused as his daughter's scent drifted up from below—she had just entered the apartment lobby. "Oh, she'll probably be home soon. I'll meet you at the mall at eight, bye."

"Bye, Mister Murdock, sir!"

Four hours passed, and Hebi was sat at the counter surrounded by papers.

"Are you sure I can't go on patrol with you?" He asked, frowning. She probably would be putting up a worse fight—if she didn't have so much stupid work due the very next day. All the stupidity with Fisk had stalled her though, earning her _quite_ the earful from her best friend when Peter learned about her procrastination over the weekend. Matt pulled his usual mask over his head.

"School comes first, you know that, and you're not even halfway done. If you catch up then you can come with me tomorrow, deal?"

Hebi sighed dramatically, dropping her head onto the counter. "Fiiiiine. Don't get killed."

Matt snorted. "I won't. Don't die of boredom. I'll be back by three at the latest," he assured her, slipping out the window. Once there, he waited for a moment before grabbing the shoulder bag he had stashed on the fire escape and dashing away. A few blocks from the mall, he slipped out of his costume, into his normal clothes, and stashed the Daredevil outfit inside the bag. Fitting the strap over his shoulder and his wallet in his back pocket, he proceeded to leave the alley and walk to the mall like a normal person. Well, a normal _blind_ person, since he also had his billy-club-turned-cane gently tapping the ground in front of him.

"Mister Murdock!" The familiar bubbly voice greeted him at the mall's front entrance. "How are you? Ready for our super secret mission?"

Matt snorted, raising an eyebrow at the boy over his glasses. "A secret mission? We're buying presents, Pete, not chasing drug traffickers or something."

Matt pretended not to notice the full-body flinch Peter gave at Matt's very mischievous choice of words. Not that Peter would notice the mischief of course, but it amused Matthew at least.

"Y-Yeah, but Hebi is almost as observant as a spy so getting her Christmas presents might as well be an undercover mission. Oh, wait…" Peter trailed off, and Matt could sense the muscles in his face twisting. Matt just blinked and tilted his head.

"You okay? What's up?"

"Oh, no, it's just, uh…" Peter shifted from foot to foot. "I forgot to research how to, um, properly lead you… shit, I messed up already, didn't I? Uh, I'm really sorry Mis—"

The teen was cut off by a laugh from the lawyer, and his mortification was quickly replaced by confusion.

"Don't worry about that, Pete," Matt assured him kindly. "Here. I'll extend my hand a little, and you'll let me grab onto your elbow. Okay?"

Matt did as he said, and Peter carefully walked up to Matt's side and did as instructed. The ginger nodded encouragingly. "There you go. Now just walk a step or two in front of me, and warn me if there are any obstacles I need to be aware of. I'll be following the path you lead me in, alright?"

Peter nodded vigorously. "Yeah, Okay. Just lead you and warn you. I can do that. Totally."

They were still standing in place, and Matt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"We can actually start moving whenever you're ready."

"Oh, right! Uh, okay. Here, I'll start… uh…" Peter stared carefully walking forward, and Matt used his free hand to gently pat the boy's shoulder.

"Relax. You won't slam me into anything, this is just a walk through the mall. I'm used to navigating with just my cane, even through crowds, so you'll be fine. Just keep an eye out for anyone at risk of walking straight into me, remember to warn me about stairs, and keep an eye out for sharp corners. Okay?"

Peter took a deep breath, and nodded before starting to walk at a more normal pace. Matt followed, not caring much when Peter occasionally slipped up and walked too slow or fast. Between Matt's keen nose and ears and Peter's sharp vision, they were able to pick out one gift each. Matt warned the teen about getting any more than that, telling him about how Hebi was still adjusting to a life where multiple presents _wasn't_ something to be suspicious about.

It was on the way from the Tower to drop everything off that they ran into trouble. Peter had insisted on walking Matt at least most of the way home— and the lawyer really should have refused more persistently.

"So, then I was telling Hebi about what Ned did, and she started laughing so hard that she knocked over her test tube and set her notes on fire! She started freaking out so badly that she grabbed the closest thing to muffle the flames, but that happened to be the snake cadaver she had just dissected and she ruined the poor thing! She was pouting about losing her research for a solid ten minutes before Friday reminded her that the physical papers were just something she did out of habit, and all her notes were backed up real-time in Friday's private systems."

Matt's laughter was the only thing that kept him from sending the danger in time, but luckily Peter's Spidey Sense took over for him. The teen quickly grabbed the lawyer, jumping to the side to send the both of them sprawling into the darkness of an alley. A knife swept through the air they had been in a second earlier, and Matt frowned. A mugger, probably looking at Matt's suit and thinking that they were prime targets.

 _Way to be sloppy, Murdock. Heb's never gonna let you live this down,_ The redhead thought to himself glumly as he cautiously stood up. Now, he and Peter were alone, at night, in a shadowy alley that was just off of one of the slightly quieter roads in the city. New York was a callous place—it was unlikely anyone would come to their rescue if they yelled.

That was the predicament Matthew was faced with. Mugger in front of him, teenager who thought he had a secret identity behind.

And that was _before_ the mugger pulled out a gun and leveled it at Matt. The vigilante could easily hear the way Peter's breath hitched at the sight, and the way his heartbeat started to pick up in the tellatale pace of an impending panic attack.

He had about two seconds to make a decision, and when everything was said and done it wasn't a hard one to make. Sweeping his foot behind him, Matt knocked Peter to the ground before lunging towards the mugger. That way, when the assailant fired the bullet didn't hit either of them. Matt grabbed the guy's wrist, covered his grimy mouth with his other hand, and rammed his knee into the man's gut. While he gasped for breath, Matt broke his wrist with one decisive _snap_ , kicking the gun away the moment it hit the dusty alleyway cement. After that, the man somehow managed to use his free hand to cut the strap of Matt's bag, causing he thing to fall to the ground.

Paying it no attention, the attorney swiftly disarmed the attacker for the second time and crashed his head against the wall to knock him out. Once their would-be mugger was slumped on the ground, Matt turned to Peter.

The teen had pushed himself back up into a standing position some time during the scuffle, and was undoubtedly gaping. Matt shifted uncomfortably.

"So, uh. Did I mention my old man was a boxer?"

"You're Daredevil," Peter whispered.

It was then that Matt realized, ~~he fucked up~~ his mask had slipped from his bag after it had been cut away from him.

"...Hebi's never gonna let me live this down."

— ***—*—*—*—***

**So? Was this good? Did I jump the ball a little with Fisk? I hope not. The plot thickens!**

**I am satisfied with how this chapter turned out, even if the pacing is weird and it is a little hodgepodged. Oh well, that's why I warned you that this story was extremely self indulgent XD at least I got done everything I wanted to get done.**

**I hope you liked it, don't forget to comment if you want, and thank you so much for reading! I seriously appreciate every single one of you guys and the fact that you took time out of your day to entertain this story. As always,**

**See you next chapter!~**


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of fucking dialogue
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS;   
> brief discussion of suicide ideation,  
> Discussion of mental illness,  
> Self depreciation and a major guilt complex run amok here  
> If you notice any others, please tell me and I will update this list, thanks!

"Oh my god," Peter breathed, making Matt shift uncomfortably. "You're daredevil. Oh my god."

"Yeah, you've said that," Matt remarked, turning his head towards the man who was knocked out. "How about you _stop_ saying that out loud for a moment, and I'll call the police to pick this guy up. Sound good?"

"Oh, uh yeah," Peter mumbled, realizing that the would-be mugger could wake up any second and turning to stare the man down just in case he did. Unfortunately, the teenager couldn't quite help glancing back at Matt when the lawyer used voice command to call nine-one-one. "Uh, if you're Daredevil then do you actually have to do that? Voice command I mean. Uh, but you totally don't have to ans—" Peter started rambling once Murdock had hung up. The older male just sighed, holding up a hand to stop the word vomit.

"I'm actually blind, Peter. Yes, I need voice command. I'll explain more about it later, but I legitimately can not register light, which means I can't use electronic screens. Now come on over here, we have to put on a convincing act."

"Uh, act, sir?" Peter asked, confused but compliant as he slowly stepped over to the redhead. Matt nodded.

"Yeah. I'm the scared blind man, and you're the adrenaline-fueled teenager who managed to disarm the guy, break his hand with his own gun, and knock him out while protecting me. Could you put my mask back in my bag—thanks. Actually," Matt paused, taking his costume out and hiding it behind a dumpster far enough back that the police wouldn't go near it, but close enough for Matt to easily be able to tell if anyone approached it. Jogging back to the teen, Matt went up and leaned against a wall as if he was barely able to hold himself up. "Got it, kid?"

Peter took a deep breath, then did what he did best.

"Okay, but what's my character's motivation?"

Matt sighed. "Your motivation is for us not to be suspicious so that the cops can come and go without searching us and realizing that I'm more ruffled than you are, and it was _my_ bag that got cut even though _you're_ supposed to be the one that fought him. Capiche?"

"But, uh, won't that stuff come up in the guy's trial?" The young man asked, fidgeting. Matt nodded even as he heard sirens starting to approach.

"Yeah, but that's fine. Let the lawyer deal with that, Pete. For now, just focus on pretending like you're worried about me okay?"

The police report went easily. They picked the guy up, confiscated the weapons (which neither Matt nor Peter had actually touched, so they were both safe there), took Peter and Matt's statements (which Matt's super-hearing came in handy for, because it was child's play to make Peter go first and just sync his story to the kid's stammers), and then the two were back on their way to Matt's apartment.

"So, uh," Peter said after a couple tensely silent blocks. "How do you do, you know, the whole vigilante thing if you're blind? I mean, I can barely do it and all _my_ senses are intact and enhanced. And did you know your suit is red? Does Hebi know? Wait, you said she'd never let you live it down so obviously she knows. Oh, that explains _so much!"_

"Pete."

"But you're so nice and smiley and polite as Matthew Murdock, it doesn't make sense!"

"Peter."

"And Daredevil is so brooding and frowny and intimidating and gloomy, how are you two even the same—"

"Oh my god, Kid, please be quiet for a second," Matt finally got a word in and got the teen to shut his mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Look, we're almost to the apartment so just, just hold all your questions until then okay? We're gonna have to explain everything that happened to Hebi, and she's going to want to know why I was out with you instead of patrolling like I told her I would be."

"Ooooh," Peter's shoulders suddenly tensed. " _That's_ the lie you went with. And that's why your suit was—oh no, Mister Murdock, I can't lie to Hebi!" The lawyer felt Peter's heartbeat start to pick up as the kid started tugging at his hair in distress. Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Calm down, Pete. Hebi isn't scary, you know that," she wasn't anymore anyway, "And lying to her isn't the end of the world. It's just until Christmas anyway, and then we can confess to her in private."

"No, no, Mister Murdock! I mean I _literally_ can't lie to her! She always finds out," Peter turned to stare the older man down as his voice went completely serious. " _Always."_

"Maybe if you got a handle on your stutter, she wouldn't catch you so quickly," the older man mused. "Look, let's just get our story straight okay? This is going to be a lot harder than with the police."

Peter nodded seriously, staring down at the concrete as he thought. The two walked in silence for another few blocks until; "we should tell her."

"Huh?" Matt asked, turning his head to pay attention to Peter, habitually aiming his eyes to where he thought Peter's were.

"About the Christmas present shopping. She doesn't know where we hid the gifts, and I can program Friday to not even give her any hints. I can even move the presents up to me and Dad's Penthouse, Hebi doesn't have access there. The truth is probably better with her, anyway."

Matt only needed a few seconds of thought before he was nodding. "Yeah, you're probably right. But knowing that we got attacked while doing something _for her_ is going to make her feel guilty."

"Really?" Peter asked, tilting his head. Matt nodded grimly.

"You might not know this about her yet since she hides it so well, but Hebi has a major guilt complex," he could practically _hear_ his daughter calling him a hypocrite. "She'll probably start saying things like; 'what were you doing going out of your way shopping for me anyway? Online ordering exists,' or 'So first you go spend money on me, then you get attacked while you're at it?' And start to have a panic attack," the man explained, sighing as they reached his and Hebi's apartment complex.

"Woah," Peter breathed, blinking. Sure he knew Hebi was constantly worried about everyone and paid closer attention to what everyone was going through than people thought, but he didn't pick up on the guilt complex. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, he wondered what else his friend was hiding. "But we can help her with that. It's better to deal with a little freak out now than a worse one later if she finds out we lied, right?"

Matt sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Well, get ready then."

—*—*—*—*—*

I was in the middle of my second-to-last essay when I smelled it. Or rather, _them._ Matt and Peter. My eyebrows scrunched. What was Peter doing with Dad? Thoroughly distracted, I put my paper down and started a pot of water for tea. I had a feeling I'd need some, and was debating whether to brew one with caffeine or an herbal one for relaxation when they walked in.

Seeing the way Matt seemed braced for some unknowable impact and the way Peter couldn't stop fidgeting, I reached for the calming tea with headache-easing properties. Something was telling me that whatever they had to share wasn't going to be great news.

"Alright," I spoke up, hoping the water wouldn't take much longer to finish heating. "What happened?" I pinned most of my glare on Matt, seeing as how he was in a business suit when he should have been in his Daredevil one.

"So, don't get mad…" Matt started out. I picked up my mug, already prepped with a strainer filled with tea, and leaned closer to the kettle on the stove. Come on, finish heating up…

"I'm so sorry Hebi, but we just wanted to do something nice for you and we knew you'd get suspicious and ruin the surprise if we told you beforehand so we snuck out and I swear I didn't mean to figure out the secret and I know it isn't technically _your_ secret, but you still hadn't told me about it so I assume it was pretty important to you so I'm super sorry and—"

Blessedly, the whistle of the kettle cut him off. Not caring about warming up my mug first like normal tea etiquette demanded, I poured my water straight on top of the strainer and took a sip of the Not-yet-steeped liquid. Watery, but the scalding heat still helped to settle most of my nerves. What the hell had Peter been going on about, anyway? The fact that secrets were mentioned at all just set me on edge.

"Okay," I breathed out slowly, pinning my gaze on both males. Matt was wincing, and Peter was still fidgeting. Upon closer inspection, my dad's suit was rumpled along with his usually perfect hair, and there was a couple tiny specks of blood on his collar that I would have missed entirely if I hadn't been able to smell them. Oh boy. Blood was not a good sign. "Let's start slowly. First, sit the fuck down. Second, explain from the beginning. Start with what the hell you guys were doing together tonight, apparently in secret, anyway," I ground out, my mind still trying to piece together why Peter had rambled what he had rambled. Why was he sorry? What secret was he talking about? What the hell had they snuck out to do behind her back?

 _Shut up,_ I silently hissed at my own mind. I knew overthinking things was not going to do me any favors, they were clearly about to explain everything right there in front of me anyway. Still, my brain couldn't help but come up with a list of assumptions; _he knows about Boa, he found out about Dryad, he knows something about you. Heknowssomething, heknowssomething, heknows—_

"We wanted to go Christmas shopping for you before it was too late," my dad's calm, deep voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts. I nodded, reaching one hand over to start spooning sugar into my cup. I just needed to _do_ something while they spoke. "So we decided to sneak out today to do that, and hide the gifts at the Tower so you wouldn't spoil the surprise. I went with Peter because I needed somebody to help guide me and point out some of the things you might like that I wouldn't notice," he explained patiently. I nodded, stirring my tea. So far, so good. Sneaking out for gifts was a bit baffling to me, but not anything bad. Which meant the bad news was still to come.

"We dropped everything off at the Tower, but I wanted to walk Mister Murdock home since, you know, it's New York City at night," Peter continued for Matt. "But on our way back, we got mugged. Or well, someone _attempted_ to mug us. And I was about to fight the guy off, I swear, but he brought out a gun and I froze for a second because—not important. Anyway, I froze for a split second and right as I was gonna snap out of it and fight the guy off, Mister Murdock, uh…"

"I did it for him," Matt admitted, his pseudo-gaze never leaving my face. I took a deep breath. So Peter saw Matt fight. Okay. That was okay. Messy, but not unfixa— "But the guy managed to cut off my shoulder bag, and my mask slipped out of it."

Never. Fucking. Mind.

"So, Yeah, uh," Peter mumbles. "The guy was knocked out pretty quickly so I don't think he saw, but, well, I did and nowIknowyourdadisDaredevil," he spat the last part out all at once. My ears had a little trouble keeping up, but it wasn't too hard to intuit what he had said.

I took a very deep sip of my tea.

I stared at Peter silently as I did, analyzing his face. The longer I made eye contact, the twitcher he seemed to get. His hair was ruffled, his skin was slightly pale but recovering. The fact that he had frozen at all despite being Spider-Man and used to violence meant that the particular setting or something about the attempted mugging had been a trigger of some sort. Whatever it was, whatever memory it had provoked, Peter was still recovering from it.

That observation in and of itself had my shoulders relaxing. I couldn't be mad at a traumatized Peter for very long. Carefully, slowly, I peeled my lips away from my tea mug and exhaled steam.

"Alright. So you know," I confirmed aloud, leaning back carefully in my stool. "That's… honestly Matt, I have no idea how the hell you kept Daredevil a secret before you met me, because this is a mess," I shook my head as my dad winced, a lopsided smile tipping one side of his mouth up apologetically.

"Uh… sorry?" He tried. I snorted.

"It's _your_ secret identity, idiot, don't apologize to _me,"_ I retorted. I set my tea down on the counter. "You want something to drink, Pete?" My best friend startled when he was suddenly addressed, but slowly his cinnamon-haired head nodded and he carefully climbed up into a stool. One of his feet bobbed nervously on the bottom metal rung of the chair.

"You're not… mad?" He asked, and I instantly thought back to the day I found out about Spider-Man. He had said that exact question back then, too. I chuckled, smiling at him reassuringly.

"Why the hell should I be mad at you? It's not _your_ fault Matt let his shoulder bag get cut. Honestly dude, you're better than that," I aimed the second half of that at my dad, who shrugged and flopped himself down on the couch.

"Eh, fighting in a business suit is hard. Besides, I wasn't trying to go all out and expose myself to the guy completely."

I just shook my head again, grabbing a soda from the fridge and tossing it to Pete before sitting down again. "So," I started, tilting my head as I examined my friend again. "You can't tell the Avengers. Or anyone else," I stated, locking eyes with him as he was in mid-sip of his drink. He paused, meeting my gaze silently. "Matt hides his identity for the same reason you do. Except, his career is _also_ on the line. He's a lawyer, vigilantism is mostly illegal, it's kind of a conflict of interest," I explained patiently, moving my tea bag through my tea with one hand without ever looking away from Peter. "Honestly, Matt should be the one giving you this speech but I think he's trying to prepare himself mentally for the teasing he knows he's going to get for the foreseeable future. I am not letting him live this down anytime soon, that's for sure," for some reason my words made Peter snort, which then made him curse as some of the soda came out his nose and the carbonation stung the sensitive flesh there. I watched with amusement as he scrambled for a paper towel to clean everything up even as he softly cursed soda for making his nose sting. "Also," I spoke up once the majority of the scene was dealt with. Peter looked up, most likely sensing the way my tone had dipped back into seriousness. I felt the frown overcome my lips, and I knew my eyebrows were furrowed.

"You didn't have to go behind my back to buy me gifts. I don't _need_ gifts anyway," I spoke slowly, my fingers moving to nervously tap at the marble of the counter. The scene of the mugging that I hadn't actually seen played in my mind, my imagination warping it out of context and showing me worst-case scenarios faster than a druggie could waste his paycheck on his next fix. "I rather you be safe then go out of your way to anything like that for me. You guys could have been seriously hurt just because you wanted to get a few trinkets for me to open on Christmas, do you have any idea how worried I would be if you guys had gotten seriously hurt? Screw spending money on me, focus on keeping yourselves out of danger. I don't need that shit on my conscious—" I ran a hand through my hair, distantly recognizing that my heart was beating a little too fast. The colors of the marble counter were blurring together, black and whites mixing into a muddled grey. Was I getting oxygen? My throat was burning. No, I couldn't be holding my breath—my oxygen requirement was so low that my lungs wouldn't burn for at least twenty minutes. It had barely been one since—

"You're hyperventilating, Hebi. Take a deep breath. You're in the apartment, Peter is right in front of you, your left hand is holding your mug. The tea is getting cold, you should finish it before it gets nasty. Are you focusing on my voice? Deep breaths—There you go," Matt's calm, deep voice pulled me out of my panic. Just deep enough to be registered by my internal ears, deep enough for me to never be deaf to it. Out for five seconds, in for five seconds. Long breaths, slow— colors regained their vibrancy slowly, snapping back into their proper lines instead of muddling together or being obscured by the neon speckles of lightheadedness. I released my grip on my mug before I cracked it.

"Matt told me you'd say something like that," Peter's voice spoke up, making my eyes snap up to him. He was leaning over the counter towards me, but staying at a careful distance. His eyebrows were pinched and he looked worried, but not surprised or unprepared. He probably dealt with and saw panic attacks fairly regularly, considering his roommates. Idly, I wondered if he had ever had one himself. Considering how he spent his free time, it was very possible.

I tried not to think too hard about why that thought made my chest clench.

It was my turn to be silent as Peter spoke seriously to me.

"I get that you're not used to gifts or random acts of kindness. But that's unacceptable for me. Mister Murdock and I wanted to do something nice, and that's that. You deserve to have Christmas gifts just as much as anyone else, and it's perfectly within our rights as your friends and family to get them for you. We live in New York City, Hebi. Going out at noon is almost as dangerous as going out at dark, and even though I didn't know it before hand, we are both vigilantes. Mister Murdock and I can protect ourselves. If I remember correctly, _you're the one_ who said that Daredevil was one of the best fighters you've ever met, even when compared to Nat and Bucky. If we still get hurt, well, that happens. Bad things _happen._ And it's not _your fault_ that they do," chocolate eyes bored into mine relentlessly, keeping my gaze captive. "But you can be there to help patch us up, and talk our ears off for being reckless, and things will get better. Okay?"

I finally tore my eyes away to look down at my hands, but Peter wouldn't take silence as an answer. He leaned closer.

" _Okay?"_

I huffed, chugging the last of my tea in one go. I stepped the mug back down with a _clang_ that made Matt wince and rub his ears, and sighed a single breath out for a solid ten seconds. Once my lungs were empty, I took a deep breath and choked out:

"Fine. Whatever."

That seemed to appease Pete, who sat back with a small smile. "Awesome! So, are you guys willing to answer a few questions because I'm still really lost here. Daredevil is _so_ different from Matthew Murdock, and—oh my god that means that the other day—oh wait that's a secret never mind—" Matt groaned, and I sat up with a raised eyebrow. Luckily (for them) Peter hadn't noticed his slip up and forged onwards. "And Mister Murdock said he'd tell me about how he can be a vigilante when he's blind, but only once we got here. And now we're here. And you knew the whole time, right? How did you guys, like, decide to be adopted? Or, I mean, how did _you_ decide to be adopted _by him_ , and like—how did that all happen?"

I couldn't help it, I laughed. It had finally caught up to me that Matt, _my dad Matt,_ got his identity uncovered by _Peter,_ who he _had only met in person a handful of times before,_ who was also a vigilante who was _horribly bad_ at keeping _his_ secret identity secret. Meanwhile, Peter was still oblivious to _my_ identity even though I spent almost more time with him than my _own adoptive father._ And Peter probably thought he still had a secret identity, even though he had referred to himself as a vigilante out loud in front of Matt.

Poor Pete probably didn't even notice that yet.

"Let's start with a few statements," I said once I got my laughter under control. "First, you would have just outed yourself as Spider-Man if Matt hadn't already known. Secondly, Matt has powers. Two-a, Matt's powers allowed him to figure out your identity the same day that I did. Two-b, even if he hadn't figured out on the same day I did, his powers would have outed you to him the second you two ever met as Daredevil and Spider-Man. Two-c, before you say a single damned word, Matt probably hasn't mentioned Spider-Man even once. That's because, if you haven't figured it out already, he hasn't and _has_ no _intention of_ exposing your identity to anybody. He's better at keeping secrets than you, at least. Marginally."

"Only marginally?" Matt interjected, eyebrow raised.

"Why are we having this discussion again?" I asked rhetorically, which shut him up immediately.

Looking back at Peter, I saw his jaw was dropped. "Oh shit," he breathed. "I mentioned being a vigilante on our walk back, too! And he didn't—you didn't—"

"Yeah, your awareness needs work," Matt agreed with a shrug. "If I hadn't already known, I would have asked something along the lines of _which vigilante are you, again_?, and there's no easy way out of that," he told my friend with a grin. Peter groaned in despair, his forehead dropping to hit the counter.

"I got so distracted by you being Daredevil that I forgot about my _own_ identity," he grumbled. Then, realization came over him and his head raised again, gaze shooting between my father and I. "Wait. Uh, what abilities do you have that would have outed me? Because that seems like something that could be super dangerous for my identity if anyone else had anything similar."

Oh, he didn't even know the half of it.

"My senses," Matt answered. "When I was blinded as a kid, the radioactive waste I was doused in altered my genes. I guess you can say they replaced my sight by severely enhancing all of my other senses."

"How severe is 'severely,'?" Peter asked, leaning forward. My lips twitched, having known that the biologist in him wouldn't have been able to resist asking that. Matt shrugged, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. His suit jacket was already off and slung over the back of the sofa.

"I can hear your heartbeat from a couple blocks away, farther if I'm really focused or if there aren't many people around," he admitted. "I can identify people by smell, even better than a dog can. I could track you across Manhattan if I needed to. I have a pretty accurate sense of heat, and I can feel vibrations through solid material fairly easily. I can taste things on the air, identify every individual ingredient in something I drink or eat."

"It gives him a more accurate picture of the world than most people's sight," I pitched in once Matt trailed off. "Like sonar senses essentially, all combining and working together to give him a more in depth visual of the world than most humans could ever dream of without the aid of technology. Even then, scent sensory tech is far behind what Matt's capable of," I shrugged.

"That's how he found you, when you ran off after that argument with Mister Pym," Peter realized out loud. Matt and I just nodded. My friend slumped backwards in his stool, looking slightly overwhelmed as he processed all that information. "Then, the rest of it? The parkour and the fighting, what's that from?"

"Skill, and practice," My dad answered smoothly. "Not everything needs a superpower to be accomplished, Peter. Sometimes hard work and repetition does the trick even better. I had someone with the same abilities as me—he's an asshole, the less you know about him the better— train me since not long after my old man was killed. My senses help me fight, don't get me wrong, but I got this body and technique the hard way."

If possible, that just made Peter even _more_ awed. Wide eyed, it took my friend a moment before he slowly shook his head. "Woah."

That seemed to be all that he could articulate right then, leaving the three of us in an awkward silence for a long moment.

"So," Pete spoke up again, hesitantly. His leg started jiggling again. "How _did_ you guys become… this? You know, family. How did it… how did it happen, and how does Boa tie in?" Peter's eyes trailed to the wall in thought, signaling that he wasn't quite done talking. I sipped at my almost cold tea, letting the boy think as his brain was clearly doing very rapidly. "I mean… it's weird, isn't it? Boa shows up as Daredevil's new sidekick-nanny-person not long after you're adopted, Daredevil is the person _who_ adopted you, you admitted to having been keeping secrets from me…" he trailed off, but moved his eyes to meet mine. He didn't speak again, but the set to his mouth and the shine in his eyes clearly said that he wanted an answer to the implication he knew I had caught on to.

I set my mug down.

It wasn't time yet. I didn't want him to know yet. I couldn't. I couldn't tell him, not yet, I wasn't ready. But he wasn't an idiot, clearly, or else I would never have become his friend or stuck around him for so long. Obviously he had picked up the details that I had hidden in plain sight, he was a genius.

That just meant that I had to be a few steps ahead. Luckily, I had practice with that. I met his eyes evenly.

"I'm friends with a lot of people, Peter. I met Strange, and Hank, during my years on the streets. Boa is no different," I told him calmly. "When she escaped from… certain people," I carefully timed my hesitation to make it sound like I didn't know that Boa had name-dropped Dryad to Peter. It worked, the boy shooting up.

"Dryad…" he muttered. I flinched, as if I hadn't expected him to recognize the name, and quickly recovered as if I was trying to hide my minuscule slip. Peter's enhanced sight would have easily caught all of that if he had been paying attention, and it wouldn't hurt me if he hadn't.

"...yes, Dryad," I confirmed slowly. "She didn't tell me much about them besides the fact that they trained her to be an assassin, so don't bother asking. Point is, they screwed her up, Pete. Big time. For a while after she escaped, it was as if not much had changed. She didn't _know_ how to use anything less than lethal force, especially with her level of strength. Bodies still piled up, _lives_ still piled up. She would attack even someone who was just trying to pat her on the shoulder because she would mistake it as an attack and her reflexes would kick in. Luckily, my bastard of a father made sure that I could at least fight, so I wasn't in as much danger as most people were when they met her back then. It helped that we first met back when I pulled her out of the range of a bullet aimed at her," I sighed, chugging the last of my tea and putting my empty mug down.

"Somehow, we had ended up homeless within months of each other, and I always run into the weirdest people. After I pulled her out of the bullet's path, she killed the gunman and attacked me. Luckily, for me anyway, she was already injured so I was able to dodge and explain myself. That's where it started, me and Boa's weird friendship. It's not easy, not like it is for me to be friends with you or Ned or Michelle. There was a lot of having to defend myself when she had a panic attack or flashback, a lot of me stumbling over people she had just killed and dealing with the aftermath," I didn't have to fame the way my hands trembled, or the way I clasped them to try and keep them still. "She hates death, Pete… hated it even back then, but she wasn't used to anything else. It's like trying to quit an addiction cold turkey—you find yourself going back to old habits without even thinking about it or being cognizant of what you're doing. Sometimes you're lucky and able to barely stop yourself in time, and sometimes the world only comes into focus again when it's time for the grief and regret to hit. The number of times she almost killed herself because of the people she hurt, Pete…" I clenched my jaw at the memories. "No, it wasn't easy. But I was able to introduce her to a really good street dancer, and he taught her some tricks. She turned violence into art, slowly. We met weird people together and learned how to be normal by meeting them, as odd as that sounds, little by little. But she's still recovering. She'll be recovering for the rest of her life. If you want to know how me and Matt became family? It's because Boa and I had met to pool our money one day for what we considered a fancy dinner, but some people from Dryad ambushed us. Daredevil dropped in to save the day, seeing as Boa and I weren't really taught crowd control," I shrugged. "Boa and Daredevil both wanted me off the streets. I agreed to hide out for a week since Boa could take care of herself, but a week turned into two. Which turned into guardianship, which just spiraled from there."

"And now Boa is like that one crazy cousin who comes visit every once and awhile, or we go visit her. I only ever meet her as Daredevil though, she… doesn't like being seen as her real identity, as you can imagine," Matt chimed in soberly. "Sometimes Hebi pays her a visit on her way to perform in Central Park or Times Square, when she can."

"And her real name isn't leaving either of our lips anytime soon," I finished. "So, no. I'm not Boa, but I know her and I trust her," I took a moment to analyze Peter's face. His gaze was unfocused, clearly thinking about something. I let him be for a moment, until his gaze came mostly back to the present. "So, can you please not look into her? She needs to be left alone right now, Peter, if she wants any hope of finding some sort of… of normality, I guess. Or peace, if you want to be poetic about it."

"I guess that makes sense," he agreed, voice hesitant as he spoke and ran a hand through his unruly brown curls. "Sorry, Hebi. I didn't—"

"Shut up," I interrupted with a grin. "It's an easy conclusion to come to, with everything you know about me. Sometimes the world is just weird, though. The obvious answers are hardly ever the real ones," I shrugged. Like the obvious choice to trust the friend you've known since the beginning of the school year, who had a decently bad past but also had your back with baddies, bullies, and science. And had panic attacks that weren't violent (that he had seen) like the ones I had described Boa as having.

I had really backed myself into a hole, hadn't I? If the truth came out anytime soon, Peter would get mad at me for lying to his face when he confronted me about Boa in the first place. If I kept the secret, it would come out eventually (as secrets are wont to do), and he'd be mad at me for lying for _so long._ Either way, I was guaranteed to lose his trust once my identity got out.

I'd just have to make our friendship worth it while it lasted.

It wasn't like he was going to willingly stay friends with a murderer like me once he found out, anyway, had I been honest about it or not.

"So…" Peter drawled out, rocking in his seat. "I can hear heartbeats too, but only if the person is in the same room. Do you have any cool tricks you can teach me?!"

I got up, turning around to pour myself another cup of tea as Matt and Peter spoke about super-hearing and the best ways to take advantage of it. It was nice for Matt to have someone to talk to about the whole hearing-heartbeats thing. I watched, sipping from my still-brewing cup as Matt answered all of Peter's questions with a smile. It was an amused smile, but also an open one. A _free_ smile. I might understand the blindness and the _scent_ -sitivity, but I would never be able to relate to the auditory stuff. So I watched as they both got more involved in the conversation as it went, feeling my shoulders relax as the attention was no longer on me and I allowed a couple layers of my defense to slide off.

I hoped Peter could still be friends with Matt once he cut ties with me. Maybe, if I was lucky, we would be off at college by then and he could visit Matt without the risk of running into me. And Matt…

"Hah—no, you can't just rely on _every_ fluctuation, Peter. Speeding up or slowing down can mean different things for different people. Someone really good at lying might actually _calm down_ when they start telling a tale. Focus on the entire rhythm of the heartbeat, from the moment you meet the person and throughout your talks with them. You'll be able to pick out that specific heart's habits over time, like deciphering a friend's speech or body language habits."

Yeah. Matt would be okay without me, too, if he had Peter. I just had to make sure they spent more and more time together, Peter was the kind of guy who could make friends with almost anyone regardless of age. Matt was not immune to that, and Peter's presence was also inherently soothing. Once Peter cut ties with me, then maybe I should cut ties with Matt too. Nobody should have to deal with my shit for a lifetime other than myself.

I took a long sip of my tea.

I dug my own grave after all, and all the flowers placed by the tombstone would wither eventually. Best to just enjoy the blooms while they lasted, then fade back into looking exactly like every other plot in the cemetery. Lonely and barren. As it should be.

Peter tilted his head back and laughed at something Matt had said. The sound was loud, and joyous, and made me feel all warm inside. It was infectious, and I allowed myself to smile.

I probably deserved the pain that a fall from this level of peace and joy would grant me, anyway.

— ***—*—*—*—***

**I'm sorry, did you think she was getting** _**better?** _ **Yeah, no. I mean,** _**yes,** _ **she is getting better, but recovery is not a straight path. She just majorly regressed, and there's no rhyme or reason to it. She didn't regress because of Peter, or because of anything but her own mind. The human brain works like that sometimes, if you have depression you probably know exactly how that feels. Sometimes you just hate yourself for no reason, and you delve back into the depths of illogical despair that you clawed yourself out form painfully—and there is** _**no real reason why.** _ **It just happens, and you need someone else to help pull you out when this happens.**

**But whether or not anyone noticed this happening to Hebi is a different story entirely.**

**The plot picks up! Things will be fluffy for a little while before the plot I've been building up to will start to kick in big time!~ thank you guys so very much for reading, I can't believe you've stuck around this long! Please leave a comment if you want to, and as always:**

**See you next chapter!~**


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